Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen
On a glorious Summer's Morn

Dichterliebe A Poet's Love

Heine

In my garden
On a glorious summer's morn,
I hear the flowers whisper
As I wander, all forlorn.
I hear the flowers whisper
And meet their pitying gaze;
"Don't be angry with our sister;
Poor man, these are miserable days."