Early Works of Karl Marx: Book of Verse
There dances a woman by moonlight,
She glimmers far into the night,
Robe fluttering wild, eyes glittering clear,
Like diamonds set in rock-face sheer.
"Come hither, O blue sea,
I'll kiss you tenderly.
Wreathe me a willow crown,
Weave me a blue-green gown!
"I bring fine gold and rubies red
Wherein there beats my own heart's blood.
On warm breast 'twas by lover worn,
Into the ocean he was drawn.
"For you, my songs I'll sing,
That wind and wave must spring,
High in the dance I'll leap,
And wind and wave must weep!"
She grasps a willow with her hand
And binds it with a blue-green band.
She eyes it in the strangest way,
And bids it lightly step away.
"Now lend your wings to me
To echo down the sea:
Mother, have you not known
How fair I've wreathed your son?"
So nightly here and there went she,
Decked every willow by the sea.
Proudly she danced there up and down,
Until her magic course was run.