Translations from Heine.
181
When men the worst woes mention,[1]
Be sure they mention mine.
You lovely fisher-maiden,
Bring now the boat to land:
Come here and sit beside me,
We'll prattle hand in hand.
Your head lay on my bosom,
Nor be afraid of me:
Do you not trust all fearless
Daily the great wild sea?
My heart is like the sea, dear,
Has storm, and ebb, and flow,
And many purest pearl-gems
Within its dim depth glow.
The moon is fully risen,
And shineth over the sea;
And I embrace my darling,
Our hearts swell free.
- ↑ Not the worst instances of woe; else this would be peculiar which he has just declared common: but the worst kinds of woe; thus claiming for his people unusual sensibility, or hinting that they are inordinately oppressed.
