Die Lorelei [shadowpeach angst]

Die Lorelei

A/N: I first read Die Lorelei (the ballad by Heinrich Heine) as a translation and was disappointed to find none of the English ones (that I could find) had the same vibe. The solution? Translated it myself. That said, the stanzas are vague translations of a translation so if you want to read the original poem, this isn't it.

Enjoy!

___

I don't know why it lingers,
The sadness that torments my heart;
A tale of old that festers
In my thoughts and won't depart.

_

At first, there is only darkness-heavy, pitch-black darkness, and the world is cast in it.

You are a shadow in this darkness, indistinguishable from the rest. Darkness without an end or beginning. A shape without shape. Without purpose or meaning, existing only through the quiet beat of your heart.

Nobody ever hears it. Even you barely do, and you hear better than anyone.

You drift from place to place and leave as if you never were there at all. No mark left by a shapeless being. No thing disturbed by a fragment of nothingness.

You are a shadow in the endless dark, and the dark is everything.

You are nothing.

_

The air is cool and gloomy,
The calm Rhine courses by;
Soft evening rays illuminate
A mountain ridge spanned high.

_

Strange, blurry faces rush past you. Indifferent. Unseeing. Going about their lives without care for the shadows filling darkened corners.

Most days you're glad for it.

You drift still, though by now you've found your outline, and the fleeting moments of joy you steal for yourself. Flickers of dim light you clutch in your hands until the darkness extinguishes them. Each and every time.

You exist day by day, second by second for that blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, and it's better than the endless darkness. Far better than nothing, and it's enough.

_

You hear a sound. A voice perhaps, beckoning like a melody.

For the first time in thousands, you follow.

_

A beauty sits upon it,
So marvellous up there;
Her golden jewels are shining,
She combs her golden hair.

_

You see him for the first time, and the world floods with light. Shapes, sounds, and colours you could never have imagined, clear in the light of day. The vibrant green of foliage against a cloudless sky. A narrow stream rushing over round white pebbles. The warmth on your skin and the pink through your closed eyelids.

And he, amidst it all, is everything.

Your heart beats loud for all the world to hear. Thundering like it never did before, even stared down by sharp blades and sharper words, and scared half to death. Like an endless symphony of joy and warmth and content.

It's in his light that you first see yourself, and you invent yourself in him. The colour of your eyes. The smile on your cheeks. The way you walk and run and dance. The salt of your tears. The sound of your voice. The curve of your handwriting.