(Being a "lyric" translation of Heine's "Du Bist
Wie Eine Blume," as it is usually done.)
Thou art like to a Flower,
So pure and clean thou art;
I view thee and much Sadness
Steals to me in the Heart.
To me it seems my Hands I
Should now impose on your
Head, praying God to keep you
So fine and clean and pure.
