Der greise Kopf
Grey Head
Winterreise A Journey into Winter
Müller
The frost has powdered my hair
And made it white.
That makes me think I’m old –
And fills me with delight.
But all too soon the powder thaws.
My hair is black to my dismay;
I shudder at the thought of being young –
So, is my grave still far away?
Between the hours of dusk and dawn
Many a head turns grey - it’s true.
But unaccountably not mine,
In spite of all that I’ve been through.
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