Songs I–VI

This is a song and In the
wind’s weaving and Cross of this road

by Stefan George

This is a song

This is a song
For you alone:
Of a dreaming child’s years
Of its pious tears ..
Through morning gardens it rings
In high spirits it sings.
For you alone
It wants to be a song
That touches your own.

In the wind’s weaving

In the wind’s weaving
My question was
Just reverie.
Only a smile
Was of your giving.
Once a wet night
Lustre did ignite –
Now May is rushing •
And now must I
For your hair and eye
All my days
Live amongst my yearning.

Cross of this road

Cross of this road ..
We’ve reached our end.
Evening fell now ..
This is the end.
A short welling
Whom makes weary?
Me too long now..
Pain makes weary.
Hands did beckon:
What took you not?
Sighs of reckon:
You heard them not?
I walk my road
You walk it not.
Tears are welling
You see them not.

(Translated by Edward Viesel)

(From: Der siebente Ring [The Seventh Ring ] (1907) – Lieder [Songs] – Lieder I–VI [Songs I–VI])

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