By Johann Wolfgang Van Gothe, From "Faust"
Date: 11 April 2001
Gretchen's Room
XV
Gretchen alone at the spinning wheel
My peace has fled,
My heart is sore;
I never shall find it,
Ah, never more!
My life is a grave
When he is not near,
And all the world
Is bitter and drear.
Oh! My poor head
Is so puzzled, so crazed;
My reason and senses
Are utterly dazed.
My peace has fled,
My heart is sore;
I never shall find it,
Ah, never more!
Just to see him I stay
At the window late;
Just to see him I hurry
Out to the gate.
His bearing, his manner,
Distinguished and wise,
The smile round his lips,
The flash of his eyes.
His speech, like the flow
Of some magical bliss,
His handclasp-and then-
Ah, then, his kiss!
My peace has fled,
My heart is sore;
I never shall find it,
Ah, never more!
My being goes out to him
Where’er he may be;
Ah, if I could clasp him
And hold him to me,
Then kiss him,
Then kiss him longingly,
Be lost in his kisses
In ecstasy!
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