Читать книгу The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06 - Коллектив авторов, Ю. Д. Земенков, Koostaja: Ajakiri New Scientist - Страница 7

  Grete and Hans come dancing by,

    They shout for very glee;

  Poor Peter stands all silently,

    And white as chalk is he.

  Grete and Hans were wed this morn,

    And shine in bright array;

  But ah, poor Peter stands forlorn,

    Dressed for a working-day.

  He mutters, as with wistful eyes

    He gazes at them still:

  "'Twere easy—were I not too wise—

    To do myself some ill…."

  "An aching sorrow fills my breast,

    My heart is like to break;

  It leaves me neither peace nor rest,

    And all for Grete's sake.

  "It drives me to her side, as though

    She still could comfort me;

  But in her eyes there's something now

    That makes me turn and flee.

  "I climb the highest hilltop where

    I am at least alone;

  And standing in the stillness there

    I weep and make my moan."

  Poor Peter wanders slowly by;

  So pale is he, so dull and shy,

  The very neighbors in the street

  Turn round to gaze, when him they meet.

  The maids speak low: "He looks, I ween,

  As though the grave his bed had been."

  Ah no, good maids, ye should have said

  "The grave will soon become his bed."

  He lost his sweetheart—so, may be,

  The grave is best for such as he;

  There he may sleep the years away,

  And rest until the Judgment-day.