Adrian Ludwig Richter – Mädchen auf der Wiese – 1823
Clouds that hurry toward the East,
where the one who’s mine is waiting,
all my wishes, my hopes and songs
shall fly with you on your wings,
shall steer you, hurrying ones, to her
so that my chaste love
shall think of me with loyal love.
Sing morning dreams to her still,
float gently in the garden,
sink like dew into the shadowy room,
strew pearls upon the flowers and trees
so that to that wonderful being, if she passes by,
all the merry blossoms
shall open with even brighter splendor.
And in the evening, in the silent calm,
spread the sinking sun’s light upon her!
It shall paint you purple and gold;
And in the sea, bright with glow and sunbeams,
the little ship plies its way,
so that she believes singing angels
are preserving her.
Yes, it may well be angels,
if my heart were pure like hers;
All my wishes, my hopes and songs
are drawn there on your wings,
are steered there by you, hurrying ones,
to my chaste love,
so that I alone may think of her.
From old fairy tales beckons
To me a white hand,
Where there is a singing and sounding
Of a magical land,
Where multicolored flowers bloom
In golden twilight,
And glow lovely and fragrant
With their bridal visage,
And where green trees sing
Where breezes sound secretly,
And birds warble,
And mist-figures rise
From the earth
And dance airy round-dances
In an odd chorus,
And blue sparks burn
On every leaf and twig,
And red lights run
In a mad, chaotic circle,
And loud springs break
Out of wild marble stone,
And in the streams–oddly–
Shine forth the reflections.
Ah! If I could enter there
And indulge my heart
And give up my agony
And be free and holy!
Ah! This is the land of bliss
That I see so often in a dream,
But when the morning sun comes,
It melts like mere froth.
Your blissful, wonderful image
I have in my heart's depths;
it looks so freshly and joyously
at me in every moment.
My heart sings mutely to itself
an old, beautiful song
that soars into the air
and hastens to your side. . .