English Translation

VROY 112 Lennwort: Outsider (Mae knows-if the dozen of the good is too much,the historical Bijzor is painted and only the two hear the last sonnet sonnet_ um_Freg. dtereingebent" beread2y) I. You, Prag, can't be painted with words like any other old city with castle and river and tower; the image remains dull, every word should shine, it should shine as if a splendour of the evening was depraved at portals. How stormy is your year!How full is the summer in your gardens, these quiet, shimmering, rising with terassen from the heights. How can spring incline into blossoms to the river; it darkens tower and gate, palaces stand, dazzled by angular works, and where it still whispers of quiet arbours, then your pondmeummteh storms up the mountain. Hoiw mm m mut II. How did I catch you in the promised image? Do I hold the stream, the sparkling in the light? Tell me about the splendor that breaks out of the gables? Am I moved by that dark mildness that filled the gardens with enchantment? The greatest miracle, it is always simple. Listen, as the Strum speaks in all the towers, to which the robes of your healings were strangled. And old trees are always standing around your monastery churches and palaces. And in the middle heavy nights will wane around your garden-like flower festivals. And dark towers will always be like those of Saint Egydia and the Tein...