Love
These tufted branches fair
Translated by Edgar Alfred Bowring (1853) · From West-Eastern Divan
THESE tufted branches fair
Observe, my loved one, well!
And see the fruits they bear
In green and prickly shell!
They've hung roll'd up, till now,
Unconsciously and still;
A loosely-waving bough
Doth rock them at its will.
Yet, ripening from within.
The kernel brown swells fast;
It seeks the air to win,
It seeks the sun at last.
With joy it bursts its thrall,
The shell must needs give way.
'Tis thus my numbers fall
Before thy feet, each day.
Cite this poem
MLA
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. “These tufted branches fair.” Translated by Edgar Alfred Bowring. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/goethe/367/.
Chicago
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. “These tufted branches fair.” Translated by Edgar Alfred Bowring. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/goethe/367/.
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