By Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
Translated from the German
I don’t know why it should happen
That I feel such a sadness start,
There’s a tale of an olden vision
That I can’t get out of my heart
Cool is the air, in the west
Falls the sun and at peace is the Rhine,
The peaks of the hilltops caressed
By the evening sunshine
A stunningly ravishing maiden
Is combing her golden hair,
Such a wonderful glittering vision
With her golden adornments there
She combs with a comb made of gold
Sings as she combs, singing she
Such a song of a power untold,
Such a wonderful melody
A boatman who sails underneath her
Looks away from the rocks passing by,
And seized by that terrible power
He can only look up and die
I believe that the waves were so strong
They swallowed the drowning one,
And that’s what she’s done with her songs,
What the Lorelei has done
