I came from the house of my mistress

Text by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
Translated into English by Joseph Massaad 

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I came from the house of my mistress,
And wandered frenzied in midnight distress,
And when crossing the graveyard as I went,
The graves seemed to nod, solemn and silent.

A nod was seen from the minstrel's tombstone,
It was the moon's glimmering light that shone.
There's a whisper: "Dear brother I'll soon be here "
And a misty shape from the grave did appear.

It was the minstrel who arose, bone for bone
And perched himself high on the tombstone.
He grabbed his zither and what did follow
Was a song that sounded shrill and hollow:

" Ah! Do you know the old refrain,
That thrilled the heart with burning pain,
You chords so dull and boring?
The angels call it heaven's delight,
The devils call it hellish plight,
The mortals call it: loving! "

Scarcely did he pronounce his last rhyme,
When all the graves opened at the same time;
Many airy figures from the graves sprang,
They surrounded the ministrel and sang:

" Love! Oh love! Your endless might
Brought us to this dreary site,
Closed our eyes in eternal plight-
Why do you call us in the night?"

They howled with confusion and wooed and moaned,
They roared and sighed and crashed and groaned,
Then the crazy swarm the ministrel surrounds
And the minstrel's zither wildly resounds:

Bravo! Bravo! madness unbounded!
Welcome to you, dear!
Plainly you could hear
That my magic call resounded!

As we lie the year in gloom,
Still as mice in our room,
Let's to-day be full of cheer!
But I beg you, first of all,
See that no one else is here;
Fools we were when we were living,
To love's insane passion giving
Our mad and burning soul.
And let, as a past-time now,
Each one truly relate how
He happened to reach this place
How pressured,
How shredded
He was in love's furious chase. "

Then, as light as wind, from the circle broke
A weedy being and he hummingly spoke:

" A tailor's lad was I,
With needle and with shears;
I was quick, I was spry,
With needle and with shears;
Then came the master's daughter,
With needle and with shears;
And pierced me through the heart,
With needle and with shears. "

In a merry laughter all spirits partook
And a second stepped forth with a serious look:

" Rinaldo Rinaldini,
Schinderhanno, Olandini
And Charles Moor, especially
Were the models chosen by me.

Like these heroes, I must confess,
I tasted love's sweet tenderness,
And the fairest woman's vision
Haunted me in wildest passion.

And I sighed and also I cooed
And when madly in love I stood,
My nimble finger, for the worse,
Dipped into my neighbor's purse.

But the watchman grudges held,
And yearning tears made me shed
And I sought to dry my grief
In my neighbor's handkerchief.

As per custom, I was then
Quickly flanked by policemen,
And the mighty prison pressed
Me to its maternal breast.

With sweet thoughts of love still full,
I lingered there, spinning wool,
Till Rinaldo's shadow passed
And took my soul, at last."

The spirits all laughed with a merry shout,
And, powdered and polished, a third stepped out:

" I ruled as a king on the stage,
And played the lover's role.
I oft yelled: " Oh God! " in a rage
And sighed from the depth of my soul.

Mortimer was the best of roles,
For Maria was always so fair!
But despite the most natural calls,
She never answered my prayer.

One day, in full desperation,
" Maria, you holy one! " I cried,
And with quick determination,
Plunged a dagger into my side."

The spirits all laughed with a merry shout,
And, dressed in a white cloth, a fourth stepped out:

" The professor talked from his chair,
His talk was some sort of lullaby;
If I with his charming daughter were,
Oh, what a delight it would be!

From the window, she often nodded gently,
That flower of flowers, my life's own light!
But that flower of flowers was plucked, oh infamy!
By a lousy philistine, a rich old blight.

Then I cursed all rich scoundrels and women
And mixed some poisoned herbs in my wine.
I drank with Death, we raised the glass and then,
Said He: Cheers! This is the end of your time! "

The spirit all laughed with a merry shout,
A fifth, with rope around his neck, stepped out:

" A count boasted and bragged over his wine
Of his daughter so fair and his jewels so fine.
I don't care, count for your jewels so fine,
I'd be happy if your daughter were mine.

He kept them secured under lock and key,
And many a servant to guard them had he.
Not caring for servants, for lock or for key,
The rugs of a ladder I mounted happily.

I climbed at the window of my mistress dear,
When curses beneath were heard loud and clear:
" Fine doing, my boy! I too must be there,
I too am in love with jewels so fair."

And the count mocked me and grabbed me tight,
His servant flocked 'round with laughs of delight.
" The devil, you rascals! I am no robber,
My only crime is that I am a lover."

I pleaded and pleaded till I lost hope,
And around my neck they tightened the rope.
When the sun rose, how astounded he was,
To see me hanging on the high gallows."

The spirits all laughed with a merry shout,
With his heads in his hands, a sixth stepped out:

" Love's bitter pain drove me to chase,
Rifle in hand, I moved apace.
Down from a tree, with hollow scuff,
The raven cried: " Heads off! heads off!"

Oh, I wish I could see a dove,
I'd bring it home to my sweet love!
Thus thought I, neither bush nor tree
Escaped my hunter's scrutiny.

Who is cuddling and cooing there?
I sounds like a turtle-dove pair.
Cocking my gun, I crept up close,
And lo! My own sweetheart it was!

It was my little dove, my bride,
A stranger cuddling at her side!
Well, old gun, you better aim well.
The stranger bled, the stranger fell.

Soon through the woods I went anew,
Surrounded by the hangman's crew.
Down from a tree, with a bitter scuff,
The raven cried: " Heads off! heads off! "

The spirits all laughed with a merry shout,
And the minstrel himself stepped out:

" I once had a song that I cherished,
But that sweet song had to end.
When love in your heart has perished,
Then all the singing must wend."

And the crazy laughter grew twice as loud,
As in a wide circle swept the spectral crowd.
And when, from the tower-clock, the stoke of one fell,
All the spirits rushed back to their tomb with a yell.