Beatrice

Beatrice Kısa Özet

"Oh, kind is Death that Life`s long trouble closes, Yet at Death`s coming Life shrinks back affright; It sees the dark hand,--not that it encloses

A cup of light.

So oft the Spirit seeing Love draw nigh

As `neath the shadow of destruction, quakes, For Self, dark tyrant of the Soul, must die, When Love awakes.

Aye, let him die in darkness! But for thee,-- Breathe thou the breath of morning and be free!" Rückert. Translated by F. W. B.