Heinrich Heine (1797–1856)

Translated by Richard Garnett

O DEAREST, canst thou tell me why

The rose should be so pale?

And why the azure violet

Should wither in the vale?

And why the lark should in the cloud

So sorrowfully sing?

And why from loveliest balsam-buds

A scent of death should spring?

And why the sun upon the mead

So chillingly should frown?

And why the earth should, like a grave,

Be mouldering and brown?

And why it is that I myself

So languishing should be?

And why it is, my heart of hearts,

That thou forsakest me?