On the walls of Salamanca

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

deutsch - français

On the walls of Salamanca
The refreshing winds blow softer;
Often with my gracious Donna,
There, on Summer eves, I wander.

Round my beauty's slender body,
I have bent my arm to linger,
And her bosom's haughty breathing,
I can feel with blessed finger.

But I hear an anxious whisper,
Flowing from the linden-tree,
And below, the somber millstream
Conveys evil omens to me.

« Ah, Señora, a foreboding
Warns me, you and I must sever;
On the walls of Salamanca,
We again shall wander never.»