C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Rest in the Beloved
By Ferdinand Freiligrath (18101876)
From ‘Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets’: Translation of Frances Hellman
O
Here let my resting-place e’er be;
And both thy tender palms then lay, love,
Upon my hot brow soothingly.
Here at thy feet, before thee kneeling,
In heavenly rapture let me rest,
And close my eyes, bliss o’er me stealing,
Within thine arms, upon thy breast.
That from thine own in radiance fall;
The look that my whole soul entrances,
O thou who art my life, my all!
I’ll open them but at the flowing
Of burning tears that upward swell,
And joyously, without my knowing,
From under drooping lashes well.
And good and gentle evermore;
I have thee—now I’m blessèd wholly;
I have thee—now my yearning’s o’er.
By thy sweet love intoxicated,
Within thine arms I’m lulled to rest,
And every breath of thine is freighted
With slumber songs that soothe my breast.
Oh, thus to lie day after day,
And hearken with a blissful glowing
To what each other’s heart-beats say!
Lost in our love, entranced, enraptured,
We disappear from time and space;
We rest and dream; our souls lie captured
Within oblivion’s sweet embrace.