Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.
By MidnightRicarda Huch (18641947)
T
Come not in the morning,
Come on ways of darkness,
Dearest, by the dim moonshine.
Bells are tolling midnight,
From my earthly prison
To the lovely air I rise.
On my grave I linger,
Watch the stars and measure
Time’s majestic tread at night.
Can you still give kisses?
I forgot them never
While I slept the winters drear.
In the east already
Sings the morning sunlight
—Lack-a-day!—its joyful song.
Go and taste life’s sweetness!—
I in deep, deep darkness
Sleep once more with pain.