Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.
By The LoreleyHeinrich Heine (1799–1856)
I
What makes me sorrow so:
A tale of old times never leaves me,
A tale of long ago.
And calmly flows the Rhine,
The peak of the mountain is glowing
Where evening sunrays shine.
On high, so wondrous fair,
With glittering gems she is laden,
She combeth her golden hair.
She sings a song the while,
The tune for all that listen
Has power to beguile.
He’s seized with wild, wild woe,
And never the rock-reefs marking,
He gazes on high from below.
The man from his boat to die;
And all that from the singing—
The lay of the Loreley!