BY the Isar, in the twilight
We were wandering and
singing,
By the
Isar, in the evening
We climbed the huntsman’s ladder and sat
swinging
In the
fir-tree overlooking the marshes,
While river met with river, and the
ringing
Of their
pale-green glacier water filled the
evening.
By the Isar, in the twilight
We found the dark wild
roses
Hanging red
at the river; and simmering
Frogs were singing, and over the river
closes
Was savour
of ice and of roses; and glimmering
Fear was abroad. We whispered: “No
one
knows
us.
Let it be as
the snake disposes
Here in this simmering marsh.”
KLOSTER SCHAEFTLARN