III
Ah!Now these pages forth may fly,Approach you,trembling,once again,My spirits lowered utterly By foolish fears and parting's pain.
My self-deluding fancies stray Along the boldest paths in vain;
I cannot win what is most High,And soon no more hope shall remain.
When I return from distant places To that dear home,filled with desire,A spouse holds you in his embraces,And clasps you proudly,Fairest One.
Then o'er me rolls the lightning's fire Of misery and oblivion.
IV
Forgive that,boldly risking scorn The Soul's deep yearning to confess,The singer's lips must hotly burn To waft the flames of his distress.
Can I against myself then turn And lose myself,dumb,comfortless,The very name of singer spurn,Not love you,having seen your face?
So high the Soul's illusions aspire,O'er me you stand magnificent;
'Tis but your tears that I desire,And that my songs you only enjoyed To lend them grace and ornament;
Then may they flee into the Void!
From the BOOK OF SONGS [3]
TO JENNY
