The Lorelei
by Heinrich Heine
I know not whence it rises, This thought so full of woe; --- But a tale of the times departed Haunts me --- and will not go.
The air is cool, and it darkens, And calmly flows the Rhine; The mountain peaks are sparkling In the sunny evening-shine.
And yonder sits a maiden, The fairest of the fair; With gold is her garment glittering, And she combs her golden hair.
With a golden comb she combs it, And a wild song singeth she, That melts the heart with a wondrous And powerful melody.
The boatman feels his bosom With a nameless longing move; He sees not the gulfs before him, His gaze is fixed above.
Till over boat and boatman The Rhine's deep waters run; And this with her magic singing The Lore-Lei hath done !
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