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And he gently drew me to his breast. An seine Brust; Voll Inbrunst hingst Du Dich an ihn, Du küsstest ihn mit heisser Lust He folded thee to his treacherous heart, And thou with fervor wild, unbridled, Returnest kiss for kiss impassionate. Und dann. . . ? And then? What then? Sah ich auf’s Meer Euch fliehn. He took thee on board his shadowy ship. Er sucht mich auf! Ich muss ihn sehn!
Is this a vision which I see, Or am I now set free from long delusion? Has morning truly dawned on me? See, there he stands, his face with sorrow clouding He tells me all his mingled hope and fear; Is it the voice of sympathy that cheats me? As he has oft in dreams, so stands he here! The sorrow which within my breast is burning Ah, this compassion, what dare I call it?