Im Park

Sieh, der Kastanie kindliches Laub haengt noch wie der feuchte
Fluegel des Papillons, wenn er die Huelle verliess;
Aber in laulicher Nacht der kuerzeste Regen entfaltet
Leise die Faecher und deckt schnelle den luftigen Gang.
— Du magst eilen, o himmlischer Fruehling, oder verweilen,
Immer dem trunkenen Sinn fliehst du, ein Wunder, vorbei.

Eduard Moerike  1846

In the Park

See how the tender chestnut leaves still hang like moist
Butterfly wings when they break from the cocoon;
But in night's balmy warmth the least shower opens
Quietly the fans and quickly they shield the airy allée.
— Whether you come quickly, o heavenly Spring, or tarry,
Our poor senses fail to keep up with you, o wonder.

Translation: Charles L. Cingolani                        Copyright © 2009
. . . Moerike once again under the spell of Spring . . .
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