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My brightest hopes have turned come to nothing,
The joys of friendship and love soon turn to sorrows,
And even my pleasure in beauty itself is in danger of dying away!
"Meine Ruh ist hin,
Meine herz ist schwer,"
Thus sang Gretchen at her spinning wheel.
So might I now sing every day,
And every night I go to bed hoping that I shall not wake again,
And each morning only brings back all the sorrows and grief of the day before.
"Meine Ruh ist hin,
Meine herz ist schwer,"
Thus sang Gretchen at her spinning wheel.
And so I spend my days,
Joyless and friendless.

Franz Schubert (to a friend)
Vienna, 31 March 1824







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