Escritas

From

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
From


My grief no mortals know,

Except the yearning!

Alone, a prey to woe,
All pleasure spurning,
Up tow'rds the sky I throw


A gaze discerning.
He who my love can know
Seems ne'er returning;


With strange and fiery glow


My heart is burning.
My grief no mortals know,
Except the yearning!