Our deep desires awaken
and wither to a crust
and bloom and wither once again—
so it goes, till we are dust.
I know this, and it troubles
my every loving breath,
my heart so bright and clever,
it bleeds me half to death.
— Translated from the German of Heinrich Heine
by Terese Coe [1]
Links:
[1] https://www.ablemuse.com/v26/bio/terese-coe
[2] https://www.ablemuse.com/digital-books-26/v26/digital edition/Complete Digital Version of -/Able Muse, Print Edition (Number 26), Winter 2018