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Rozbořené staré zam′ky.
Maiden's song for the dead.
The very towers that time destroys,
Time may rebuild as built before;
But ruins of departed joys—
These can be rear'd to joy no more.
The forests which the axe hath laid
In dust, may spring to life anew;
But—have the dying or the dead
A germ which spring can waken too?
My love is wrapp'd in mortal clay—
But were a granite bed his own,
With mine own nails I'd dig my way,
Through even the hardest granite-stone.[1]- ↑ Literally, "I would [make my way] to him with my nails through the hard rock."
