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Translations from Heine.
It sounded sweet[errata 1] and sweeter,
It waved there to and fro;
But we slid past forlornly
Upon the great sea-flow.
My heart, my heart is mournful,
Yet joyously shines the May;
I stand by the linden leaning,
High on the bastion grey.
The blue town-moat thereunder
Glides peacefully along;
A boy in a boat is angling
And whistling a careless song.
Beyond, like a well-known picture,
All small and fair are strewed
Houses and gardens and people,
Oxen and meadows and wood.
The maidens bleach the linen,
And dance in the grass for glee;
The mill-wheel scatters diamonds,
Its far hum reaches me.
Errata
