Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen
On a glorious Summer's Morn
Dichterliebe A Poet's Love
Heine
In my garden
On a glorious summer's morn,
I hear the flowers whisper
As I wander, all forlorn.
I hear the flowers whisper
And meet their pitying gaze;
"Don't be angry with our sister;
Poor man, these are miserable days."
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