I was on the bridge above,
in the dark night.
A song came from afar
the tremulous surface of the water spurted
drops of gold,
far elusive.
Gondolas, lights, music ... A drunken
land, swimming,
of shapes, sounds,
in the lap of the night - there.
harp my soul ...
touched by magic fingers,
sang softly to himself,
a song from the gondola, trembling with colorful
blissful happiness.
But who listened?
Venice, (Ecce Homo by , 1888)
An der Brücke
Jüngst ich stand in Brauner Nacht.
Fernher kam Gesang:
goldener Tropfen quoll's
zitternde über die Fläche weg.
Gondeln, Lichter, Musik -
drunk's swimming in the twilight beyond ...
My soul, a stringed instrument, sang
, touches invisible
secretly a gondola song,
trembling of colorful bliss.
- Someone heard her ...?
Venice ( 1888)
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