II
I cannot grasp or believe it,
A dream has bewitched me quite.
Why was it that me of all maidens
He raised to this happiest height? 20
It seemed as if he had spoken:
I am thine eternally—
It seemed—I still must be dreaming!
It cannot, cannot be.
Oh, let me die thus dreaming, 25
And resting upon his breast,
My death in ecstasy drinking,
In tears of unending rest!
Other Adelbert von Chamisso songs:
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