Heinrich Heine on Swans
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“The swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood.”
“The swan in the pool is singing, And up and down doth he steer, And, singing gently ever, Dips under the water clear.”
“And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high; And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.”