HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

My heart, my heart is heavy,
Though merrily glows the May.
Out on the ancient bastion,
Under the lindens, I stay.
Below me the calm blue waters
Of the quiet town-moat shine;
A boy in his boat rows past me.
He whistles and drops his line.
And yonder the cheerful colors.
And tiny figures, one sees.
Of people, and villas, and gardens.
And cattle, and meadows, and trees.
Young women are bleaching linen;
They leap in the grass anear.
The mill-wheel rains showers of diamonds.
Its far away buzz I hear.
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