We live in a pond during the day.
The darkness glowed, I drowned,
Daytime makes me tired of sunshine.
In the deep leaves above my head,
The young nightingale is singing.
It only sings love there,
I heard it in my sleep.
Death, it was a cold night.
Author: heinrich heine
Death, it was a cold night,
And life, it was a sultry day.
It's dark, I'm sleepy,
On this day, it made me exhausted.
There is a tree on my bed.
Where the young nightingale sings;
She sang love so boldly,
I dreamed, but it reached me.
This is all I found. . .