Joseph Von Eichendorff
Poetry in Translation: German Poetry
Winter Song
I dreamt I relaxed again
in front of my father’s house
and looked out, happily, down
into the old valley.
The wind, with gentle playing,
blew through the vernal leaves,
and flakes of blossom fell
over my head and breast.
When I awoke, the moon
shimmered on the woodland fringe.
A foreign land glimmered
around me in the murky light,
and so I saw all about:
those flakes were made of ice,
the district was white with snow,
and my hair was white with age.
Translated by Julian Farmer
Page(s) 197
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