L.

Child, I must be very careful,

For thy soul would surely perish,

If the loved heart in thy bosom

Love for me should ever cherish.

But the task proves all too easy,

Strange regrets begin to move me.

Meanwhile many a time I whisper:

"If I could but make her love me!"

Poems and Ballads of Heinrich Heine · 第 76 / 177 题