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greatpoetryA sigh went out skating, alone and at night.
He cut a fine figure, but oh! he was frantic.
The moon it was shining, the snow it was white,
and the sigh, the sigh felt romantic.
The sigh remembered a beautiful wench.
His thoughts became hot. Full Fahrenheit hot.
I dare not describe them, not even in French.
And so the sigh melted. He drowned on the spot.
Christian Morgenstern (Translated by Michael Hulse)
He cut a fine figure, but oh! he was frantic.
The moon it was shining, the snow it was white,
and the sigh, the sigh felt romantic.
The sigh remembered a beautiful wench.
His thoughts became hot. Full Fahrenheit hot.
I dare not describe them, not even in French.
And so the sigh melted. He drowned on the spot.
Christian Morgenstern (Translated by Michael Hulse)
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