Auf dem Flusse
On the River

Winterreise A Journey into Winter

Müller

Wild, bright river
That babbled with such cheer,
How quiet you have grown –
Left no word you’d disappear …

Over your surface you have drawn
A thick unyielding crust,
And lie there cold and motionless
On a bed of grit and dust.

Now, with a sharply pointed stone
I’ll cut into your shell
The hour, day and name
Of her I loved so well.

The day of our first meeting,
The day I left again,
And round the names and figures
I’ll carve a broken chain.

My heart, here in this river
Do you recognise your state?
And do you think its undercurrents
Are also in full spate?