The poems of Heine; Complete. Heinrich Heine

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СКАЧАТЬ Her sweetly flowering face.

      She blooms and glows and glistens,

       And mutely gazes above;

       She weeps and exhales and trembles

       With love and the sorrows of love.

      11.

      In the Rhine, that beautiful river,

       The sacred town of Cologne,

       With its vast cathedral, is ever

       Full clearly mirror’d and shown.

      A picture on golden leather

       In that fair cathedral is seen;

       On my life, so sad altogether,

       It hath cast its rays serene.

      The flowers and angels hover

       Round our dear Lady there;

       Her eyes, lips, cheeks, all over

       Resemble my mistress fair.

      12.

      Thou lov’st me not, thou tellest me.—

       It troubles me but slightly;

       But when thy beauteous face I see,

       No king’s heart beats more lightly.

      Thou hatest me, thy red lips say

       With well-pretended snarling;

       But when sweet kisses they convey,

       I’m comforted, my darling.

      13.

      Full lovingly thou must embrace me,

       My mistress beauteous and sweet!

       With pliant form interlace me,

       And with thine arms and thy feet.

      The fairest of snakes e’er created

       With vigour encircles anon,

       And clasps and twines round the elated

       And happy Laocoon.

      14.

      Swear not at all, but only kiss!

       All woman’s oaths I hold amiss;

       Thy word is sweet, but sweeter far

       The kisses that my guerdon are.

       These keep I, while thy words but seem

       A passing cloud, or fragrant dream.

       * * * *

      Now then, my loved one, swear away!

       I’ll credit all that thou dost say;

       And when I sink upon thy breast,

       I’ll think that I am truly blest;

       I’ll think that, love, eternally

       And even longer, thou’lt love me.

      15.

      Upon my mistress’s eyes so clear

       I write the fairest cantatas;

       Upon my mistress’s mouth sincere

       I write the best of terzinas;

       Upon my mistress’s cheeks so dear

       I write the cleverest stanzas;

       And had my mistress a heart, upon it

       I soon would write a charming sonnet.

      16.

      The world’s an ass, the world can’t see,

       And grows more stupid daily:

       It says, my darling child, of thee—

       Thou livest far too gaily.

      The world’s an ass, the world can’t see,

       Thy character not knowing;

       It knows not how sweet thy kisses be,

       How rapturously glowing.

      17.

      Loved one—gladly would I know it—

       Art thou but a vision fair,

       Such as in his brain the poet

       Loves in summer to prepare?

      No! such eyes of magic splendour,

       Lips so rosy and so warm,

       Such a child, so sweet and tender,

       Never did the poet form.

      Basilisks and vampires gory,

       Dragons, monsters of the earth,

       Suchlike evil beasts of story

       In the poet’s fire have birth.

      But thyself, thy wiles insidious,

       And thy face, so sweet and staid,

       And thy kindly looks perfidious—

       These the poet never made.

      18.

      Gleams my love in beauty’s splendour,

       Like the child of ocean foam;

       As his bride my mistress tender

       Is a stranger taking home.

      Though ’tis treason, don’t abuse it,

       Heart, thou much-enduring one!

       Bear it, bear it, and excuse it,

       What the beauteous fool hath done.

      19.

      I’ll not be angry, though my heart should break,

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