The sunset?—Ah, what comes on earth so bright,
So beautiful as clouds?—There were no clouds
Where one could always look and see the heaven.
The music, hear it—hear how sweet!—Say, say,
Did I sing then?—Not so?—and only dream’d?—
I thought that music mine, and then myself;
And Haydn’s heart, it beat here, beat in me,—
Ah me, so tired!—Yes, let me rest on you.
O God, for but one hour to live!—For what?
Have I not loved then?—Yes, and tell him so,