Friedrich Ludwig Wilhelm Meyer
“Als Bianka bey einer Beerdigung weinte,”
Spiele des Witzes und der Phantasie (Berlin 1793), 13–14.
As Bianca Wept at a FuneralWeep not! with strokes of flame do you Bury your tears in my soul, Though the goddess of death will make do With but a few, unspoiled and pure. May ne'er that lightly touched gaze, For which all of heaven laughs, Be by a traitor slyly ensnared, Who would make you weep for yourself! But deeply did your grief my own heart touch, And from this view of universal pain Did the dispassionate's sensibility bear Sweet pain forth for his breast. Return — should you find yourself in this image, Should the living find compassion with you — Return to me, O gracious one, with inborn clemency, My lost peace, my lost calm. Let me not to my own grief fall prey, Extend to me instead your compassionate hand; At least may morning slumber soon guide me Over into promised land. Then linger, sweet dreams, sweet forms, Captivate then the constricted space of my existence; Eternally do I imagine her in my arms, And may my entire life become a dream!
Translation © 2011 Doug Stott