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Heine, "Schöne Wiege meiner Leiden"

A work ("O lovely cradle of my pain")  by this German poet.  You can read the original here.

O lovely cradle of my pain,                   
O lovely tombstone of my rest,            
O lovely town, our paths must twain:    
So fare thee well; we gave our best.    

So fare thee well, O hallow bound!      
Where you shall stray, there holds my Grace;               
So fare thee well, O hallow ground!
Where first I saw Her soft steps pace.

Yet had I not beheld Her once,           
O sweetest Queen of my poor heart!     
So never would it have been thus,      
That misery and I shan't part.            

Nor did I wish to touch your core,             
No love would I have gouged to flow;                    
A quiet life I'd lead, no more,                     
Wherever your warm breath might blow.

And yet 'tis you who bids me hence,         
Your mouth befouled with bitter word;    
And madness churns my every sense,
And my poor heart falls sick and hurt. 

Yet I lurch forth on walking stick,  
My dull limbs droop and bend the way;
Until my tired head will crick
So distant in a cooling grave. 

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