by Wilhelm Küchelbecker
(translated by Google Translate)
Here, between the fallen pillars, overgrown with ivy
Here, where the wind whistles between the ruined walls,
I, alone on a hill, under the shadow of a smoldering tower,
From an ancient stone I glance into the distance, to the plain, to the forest;
Sun, I’ll take a look at you! to the flaming west, to heaven.
Oh, how blue there is, there I am silent! ”
Here I will hide from life for a moment, for a moment I will forget
Bitterness of her! or not: boredom, and sadness, and longing,
All deceits of fate and betrayal of mortals
Feelings in myself will awaken, crying alive I will enjoy!
But why was the feather grass stuck up and suddenly become embittered?
I hear a sweet moan, a sweet whisper and a sigh!
Are you talking to me, silence? I worship the rumor;
The cold ran through me, tears flashed in my eyes!
Where did you breathe before, oh marshmallows? where, sweet, veil?
You are sad and quiet: did you fly over the urns?
“I flew around the urns!” He told the silent to the graves:
There is no moaning of sorrow! there is a restless peace! ”
O breeze! about the voice from the far country, pause!
But everything is silent around! all put on the darkness! ”
The sun with the azure rolled down a long time; hovering over the fog,
The month passed through the meadows a pale, trembling light;
The stars shine, beckon and sleep on the eyes are sent down –
The tower, the gray-haired giant, is dozing over the sleeping ground.