Gone is the splendor of the sun, It covers the dark night disc. The blue of the sky has disappeared, The earth lies so pale and grey. Nature is mourning all around It close on the desolate hallway The

When the sun went away the darkness approaches sunset has golden cheeks, And the night is mourning. Since love went away Am I now a Moor child And the red happy wagons Are dark and lost. Darkness must

I walked along a wide path which stretched straight and long in front of me, out of the city, through low, last huts. I faced the sun as it set: over there where the path climbed the hill there she stood

You know the power of beauty the blossom and the air icus, make use of the colorful splendour, who laughs seductively from afar, has to earn by curling. Dot and spot adorn the moth, an eye ring at the

The high densely packed forests are enthroned On hills gently arched and covered - Their crowns rustle in home melancholy. They are filled with flight and weatherweaving Of the flaming clouds that fly

The bee loves the flower scent, nature, fresh air. Gives us honey, sweet as sugar and only stands out, that is certain, stupid harassed and threatened, never bitchy, without need. And their proverbial

How beautiful the young sun's floating upwards! Her morning greeting shoots flames into the day. Blessed is he who greets her with love, When dreamily beautiful they surrender to the night! Yes, I know,

How are we both, forest and meadow, Joined with such familiar green! How happy I enclose them in the shade, How easily and gently her plan swells! Oh! so in our solitude Let's enjoy being happy; Only the

The sun sets in the west. She has never lost her way. It's a spectacle and a miracle. She chose the west. But sometimes the view is clouded. The cloud bank is enthroned in the sky. She captures the sunbeam

Here I lie on the spring hill the cloud becomes my wing a bird flies ahead of me. Oh, tell me, only love, where you stay that I stay with you! But you and the air, you have no house. I see the cloud moving

Once I saw many flowers blooming on my way; however too lazy To try and pluck myself down I ran past on a good meadow. Now that I'm dying and miserable Now that the crypt has already been dug, Often mocking

I like old houses Generations have lived and breathed here. Unfortunately, you can't ask her otherwise the houses would have to tell me how the people moved in the house, what they used to do and not to

It lay in reflective smoothness In front of us the endless lake; The white chain of the Alps Marble rose to the heights. A dull rumble of thunder, towards evening it was bloody red; Above that in black

I follow the research of the people, With honoring, astonished look, I always return with pleasure Back to my favorite book. Admonishing and again so comforting, It speaks to me so solemnly Awakens the

Nature and art seem to flee each other And have found each other before you think it; The aversion has also disappeared from me, And both seem equally attracted to me. It is probably only a good effort!

From a distance, such a bush with plenty of lichen trimmings already looks interesting and colorful. Seen up close, you can see the small works of art in nature. Even closer, they seem like they are from

Sun you want to go down O so send the stars first So that the night doesn't conquer me When I bring her the message goodbye, goodbye Is not far. You trees look at me silently And you white marble statues

This morning it already smells slightly of manure, probably because my neighbor is busy. But I praise the village idyll even if it smells even more like manure. Swallows sail here for their food. Cows

The water wanders through the blue valleys, The wind falls in love with the quiet things: The light wants everything to sing hymns. And behold, the forests become storytellers all around. A spirit of alliance,

In the first clear spring light, a glance opens up a wide view. A sea of ​​flowers that gently touches leads to the land of the almond blossom. Currently a dream in white and pink, Spring ovation in prose.