From out of my tears all burning
Many blooming flowerets break,
And all my sighs combining
A chorus of nightingales make.
And if thou dost love me, my darling,
To thee shall the flowerets belong;
Before thy window shall echo
The nightingale’s tuneful song.
3.
The rose and the lily, the dove and the sun,
I loved them all dearly once, every one;
I love them no longer, I love now alone
The small one, the neat one, the pure one, mine own.
Yes, she herself, the fount of all love,
Is the rose and the lily, the sun and the dove.
4.
When gazing on thy beauteous eyes
All thought of sorrow straightway flies;
But when I kiss thy mouth so sweet,
My cure is perfect and complete.
When leaning on thy darling breast,
I feel with heavenly rapture blest;
But when thou sayest: “I love thee!”
I begin weeping bitterly.
5.
Thy face, so lovely and serene,
In vision I have lately seen;
So like an angel’s ’tis, and meek,
Though bitter grief has blanch’d thy cheek.
Thy lips alone, they still are red;
Death soon will kiss them pale and dead;
The heavenly light will soon be o’er
That from thine eyes is wont to pour.