Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.
By Song of an Enamoured PrinceAlfred Walter von Heymel (18781914)
F
I have now ridden seven moons.
Timid delay was unknown to my horse,
Fear to my servants. Over the dunes,
Through the forests and the dark
We have struggled painfully.
Ere the dawn awoke the lark,
We would sing of thee, of thee.
Greetings to thee my steeds would neigh;
I sang my longing, lovelorn lay.
My men would all take up my tune,
And so we roused the sunlight soon—
The sun that followed on our way,
To thee, thou sun, my sunshine gay.
I kiss and kiss thy hand. My heart
Is beating lightly and so fast,
As if it flew, an aimless dart!
To-day I may be thy favoured knight;
That gives me joy for all time to come.
The horses are ready at fall of night.
A passing farewell—and so we ride home,
For seven moons; and every day
My bliss must be more far away.—
Nay, thou within my heart shalt be,
For I am so in love with thee!