19. LAMENTATION OF AN OLD-GERMAN YOUTH.
The man on whom virtue smiles is blest,
He is lost who neglects her instructions;
Poor youth that I am, I am ruin’d
By evil companions’ seductions.
For cards and dice soon dispossess’d
My pockets of all their money;
At first the maidens consoled me
With smiles as luscious as honey.
But when they had fuddled with wine their guest,
And torn my garments, straightway
(Poor youth that I am) they seized me,
And bundled me out at the gateway.
On waking after a bad night’s rest,—
Sad end to all my ambition!—
Poor youth that I am, I was filling
At Cassel a sentry’s position.
20. AWAY!
The day’s enamour’d of the night,
The springtime loves the winter,
And life’s in love with death,—
And thou, thou lovest me!
Thou lov’st me—thou’rt already seized
By fear-inspiring shadows,
And all thy blossoms fade,
To death thy soul is bleeding.
Away from me, and only love
The butterflies, gay triflers,
Who in the sunlight sport—
Away from me and sorrow!