The Lotus flower is anxious in the sun's radiance
And with a hanging head, awaits,
Dreaming for the night.
The moon who is her lover,
Awakens her with his light.
And for him smiling,
Unveils her innocent flower face.
She blooms, and glows, and gleams,
And gazes silently upwards.
She is fragrant and weeps, and trembles,
With love and love's torments,
With love and love's torments.
In 1842, composer Robert Schumann put this poem by Heinrich Heine to music.
Here is a slightly different translation of the German verse:
The lotus-flower fears
the splendour of the sun,
and with bowed head,
dreaming, awaits the night.
The moon is her lover,
and wakes her with his light,
and to him she gladly unveils
her innocent flower-like face.
She blooms and glows and gleams,
gazing dumbly toward the sky;
she is fragrant and weeps and trembles
with love and the pain of love.
I heard Emily Roth, a beautiful young soprano, sing this love song at St. Bernard's Catholic Church in New Port Richey, Florida, in January. Seeing lotuses in India reminded me of her, and I wanted to share the poem.