8. A Look Backward

It burns under both my feet,
Even though I walk on ice and snow;
I don?t want to catch my breath
Until I can no longer see the spires.
I tripped on every stone,
As I hurried out of the town;
The crows hurled chunks of snow and ice
On my hat from every house.
How differently you received me,
You town of inconstancy!
At your sparkling windows sang
The lark and nightingale in competition.
The bushy linden trees bloomed,
The clear streams murmured brightly,
And, oh, two maiden?s eyes glowed?
Your fate was sealed, my boy!
Whenever that day enters my thoughts,
I want to look back once more,
I want to turn back again
And stand still before her house.

Winterreise by Wilhelm Muller
music by Franz Schubert Op. 89