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Aktualisiert: 3. Mai 2025
Fühlst Du den Schmerz, den tiefsten Gram, Mit dem herab auf mich er sieht? Ach, was die Ruh’ ihm ewig nahm, Wie schneidend Weh durch’s Herz mir zieht! Enough of this! Thou hast no grief; But dost thou know the pale man’s horrid fate, And dost thou feel how anguish wrung The look he casts at me in wild despair? His fate, relentless, bitter fate, ’Tis a pang that wrings my heart. Weh’ mir!
Thou knowest well that gold is all thy father careth for, And he that can offer riches will wed his daughter sure. These the thoughts that fill my heart with grief, And then, Senta, thou, too, addest to my anguish. Dein Herz? I? And how? Was soll ich denken. Jenes Bild. . . Thy worship for that picture Das Bild? This picture? Lässt Du von Deiner Schwärmerei wohl ab?
Like to a vision, seen in days long by gone, This maiden’s face and form appear: What I have sought thro’ countless years of sorrow Am at I last beholding here! Oft ’mid the torment of my night eternal, Longing I gaz’d upon some being fair! But I was driv’n by Satan’s pow’r infernal On my dread course, in anguish and despair!
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