Category Archives: Heine


Heinrich Heine: “Night Brooded On Mine Eyelids”

Heinrich Heine:  “I DREAMED”

Excerpt, “Translations from the German Poets of the 18th and 19th Centuries.”  By Alice Lucas. London:  1876.

Heinrich Heine:  “The Grenadiers”

Excerpt, “The Book of German Songs from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century.” Translated and Edited by H. W. Dulcken. 1856.

Heinrich Heine:  “The Pilgrimage to Keevlar”

Excerpt:  “The Book of German Songs from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century.” Translated and Edited by H. W. Dulcken. 1856.

Schiller: “Homage Of The Arts”

Excerpt:  “Schiller’s Homage of the Arts, with it Miscellaneous Pieces from Rückert, Freiligrath, and Other German Poets.”  Translated by Charles T. Brooks. 1846.

Heinrich Heine: The Runic Stone Juts Out From the Beach

Excerpt:  “Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets.”  Second Edition. Translated by Frances Hellman.  1895.

Heinrich Heine:  “On the Silent Shores of Ocean”

Excerpt, “Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets.”  Translated by Frances Hellman.  1892.

Heinrich Heine: “Night Thoughts”

Excerpt, “Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets,” translated by Frances Hellman. London: 1892.

.night thoughts5

 

Heine: “Heart, Despair Not”

Excerpt, “Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets.”  Translated by Frances Hellman.  1892.

Heinrich Heine: “Love said…”

Excerpt, “Borrowed Plumes.”  Translations from German Poets by James Gribble.  1888.

love said

Heinrich Heine: “With Love’s Soft and Honeyed Phrases”

Excerpt, “The Poetry of Germany, Consisting from Upwards of Seventy of the Most Celebrated Poets.”  Translated into English Verse by Alfred Baskerville.  1853.

3with love's soft and honeyed

Heinrich Heine: “I dreamt…”

Excerpt, “Borrowed Plumes: Translations from German Poets.” James D.B. Gribble. 1888..

,

I dreamt that I was young and hale again,

It was the mansion in my native land;

I ran along the pathway to the vale,

Ran with Ottilia, racing hand in hand.

.

How neatly formed, her tiny figure looks!

Those sweet green eyes have such a roguish play,

And on those little feet she stands so firm,

A type of grace and strength’s united sway.

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Her voice’s music is so sweet and true

You almost fancy through her heart to see;

And all she says is clever, full of sense;

Her ruddy lips a budding rose might be!

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It is not sensuous longing that I feel;

I’m not in love; my senses calm remain,

And yet her manners have a wondrous charm,

And as I kiss her hand I thrill with pain.

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Methinks at last I plunked a lily fair,

And gave it to her, saying: from my heart

Accept my troth, Ottilia, be my own,

That I may be as gentle as thou art.

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The answer that she gave I ne’er shall know

For I awake to find myself in tears, —

That I am ill and lying on my bed,

Forlorn as I have been these many years.

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