Heinrich Heine ( 3 of 43 )
The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.
The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.
The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
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The air grows cool and darkles,
The Rhine flows calmly on;
The mountain summit sparkles
In the light of the setting sun.
With the rose the butterfly's deep in love,
A thousand times hovering round;
But round himself, all read more
With the rose the butterfly's deep in love,
A thousand times hovering round;
But round himself, all tender like gold,
The sun's sweet ray is hovering found.
