Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.
By Under the Linden-treeWalter von der Vogelweide (11701228)
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Upon the heath,
There I lay with him.—Alas,
When you go there, you’ll see
The flowers beneath
Crushed and trodden with the grass.
By the forest in the dale,
Tandarady!
Sweetly sang the nightingale.
My lover true
Was waiting there impatiently.
Such welcome ne’er was seen—
Ah, if you knew!
My heart still throbs in ecstasy.
Kisses?—Thousands—more!—he took:
Tandarady!
See, how red my lips now look!
If anyone
Should know: alas, how I should blush!
And all our pastime fair!
Ah, none, none, none
Shall know, but he and I—hush, hush!—
And the birdie on the tree.
Tandarady!
May that ever silent be!