The lotus flower is troubled
At the suns resplendent light;
With sunken head and sadly
She dreamily waits for the night. – Heinrich Heine
Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows ones nose. – Heinrich Heine
The lotus flower is troubled
At the suns resplendent light;
With sunken head and sadly
She dreamily waits for the night. – Heinrich Heine
Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows ones nose. – Heinrich Heine
The Wedding March always reminds me of the music played when soldiers go into battle. – Heinrich Heine