Else Lasker-Schuler

I know that soon I must die,
Yet all the trees are radiant
After the longed-for kiss of July-

My dreams have grown pale with time-
Never have I drawn so dark an end
In my books of rhyme.

You break off a flower to greet me-
I loved it already in the bud.
Yet I know that soon I must die.

My breath hovers over God's river-
Softly I set my foot
On the path to my eternal home.

translation by A. Durchschlag and J. Litman-Demeestere

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