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Lyrics
Translated from the original German:
With myrtle and roses, lovely and pretty,
with fragrant cypresses and gold tinsel,
I would decorate this book like a coffin
and bury my songs inside it.
O if only I could bury my love there as well!
On the grave of Love grows the blossom of peace;
it blooms and then is plucked, -
yet it will bloom for me only when I am myself in the grave.
Here now are the songs which, once so wild,
like a stream of lava that flowed from Etna,
burst from the depths of my heart,
and spray glittering sparks everywhere!
Now they lie mute and death-like,
how they stare coldly, pale as mist,
but the old glow will revive them afresh,
when the spirit of love someday floats above them.
And in my heart the thought grows loud:
the spirit of love will someday thaw them;
someday this book will arrive in your hands,
you, my sweet love in a distant land.
Then shall the songs' magic spell be broken,
and the white letters shall gaze at you;
they'll gaze beseechingly into your lovely eyes,
and whisper with sadness and a breath of love.
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