Goethe's Faust

My peace is gone,

My heart is sore;

I'll find it never

And nevermore.

To be without him,

Is like a grave;

The sweet world all

Is turned to gall.

Ah, my poor head

Is so distraught

Ah, my poor mind

Can think no thought.

My peace is gone,

My heart is sore;

I'll find it never

And nevermore.

I stand by my window,

I seek only him.

I run from my door

To be but with him.

His noble gait,

Lofty and wise;

The smile on his lips,

The force of his eyes.

In the flow of his words,

Is magical bliss.

The clasp of his hand

Ah, what bliss!

My peace is gone,

My heart is sore;

I'll find it never

And nevermore.

My heart is yearning

To be at his side,

To clasp and enfold him

And hold him tight

To love and to kiss,

To mumur and sigh,

And under his kiss 

To melt and to die! 

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