At Bacharach there was a blonde witch Who left to die of love all men round
Bishop in his court did cite the
he absolved in advance because of its beauty
O beautiful eyes full of Lorelei gems
What do you get your magic witchcraft
I'm tired of living and my eyes are cursed
Those who have watched Bishop died
My eyes are flames, not throw stones
Take the flames that witchcraft
burns in the flames I O beautiful Loreley
That another you condemn thou hast bewitched
Bishop you laugh rather Pray for me the Virgin
Let me die and that God protects you
My lover is left for a country Far
Let me die because I love nothing
My heart hurts so bad it must be that I die
If I looked I would have to die
My heart hurts so bad since that he is gone
My heart became so ill the day he went
The bishop summoned three knights with their lances
Lead to the convent that woman in dementia
in Vat-Lore in Lore is madness in the eyes trembling
You'll be a nun dressed in black and white
Then they went on the road every four
The Loreley's pleading and her eyes shone like stars
Knights let me go on this rock so high
To see again my beautiful castle
To me once again admire the river
Then go to the convent of virgins and widows
Up there the wind twisted her hair held
Knights Loreley Loreley
cried all out there on the Rhine a boat coming
And there is my lover he saw me he calls me
My heart has become so soft that my lover comes
It then bends and falls into the Rhine
Having seen in water the beautiful Loreley
His eyes the color of his hair Rhine sun
Guillaume Apollinaire (1880 - 1918)
& WAIT. LOVE. PLAY
I do not know what it remarkable representative,
that I am so sad;
a tale from ancient times,
This comes to me from the Simm.
The air is cool and it darkens,
And gently flows the Rhine ;
The summit of the mountain
in the evening sunshine. entrances
The beautiful maiden
there, wonderful:
Her golden jewels are shining,
she combs her golden Harr.
She combs her golden hair,
and sings a song dadei;
One wondrous,
violence melody.
Take
the boatman
With unrestrained woe;
He does not see the rocky reefs,
He only looks up into the air.
I think the worlds
devour Both boat and barge;
And She with her singing
The Lore-ley.
Je ne sais pas ce que cela signifie,
Le fait que je sois triste si;
A tale of old,
Do not leave my mind.
The air is cool and the night falls,
And quietly flows the Rhine,
The summit of the mountain spark
In the setting sun.
The beautiful young woman sits
top beautifully;
Her gold dress shines
She combs her golden hair.
She combs with a golden comb,
And she sings a song;
And this song has a melody,
Beautiful and powerful.
The boatman in his little boat
receives a wild pain;
He does not look reefs,
He only looks up the rock.
I think the waves swallow
At the end of the boatman and his boat;
And this is the Lorelei that the has
With his song.
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