Golden hair, skin light and fair,
I comb my locks as the sun shines.
I’m told of my beauty, but smile not,
for their intoxication is bitterest of wines.
On my rock above the Rhine, I warm in light,
I comb my hair, look at the sweetest plain.
The sun is warm, the sky eternal and open,
but the world is bitter, and my fairness a stain.
For those rivermen see me, just wanting to be alone,
They look, under a spell, at my glory and go aground.
I am a soft, and angelic face, but I don not smile.
There is ever tears in my eyes; I am haunted by the sound.
I have done nothing, just want be left alone, be at peace,
comb my hair in the sun that warms my skin, brings me pleasure.
I don’t want to be the glory or beautiful or a radiant thing.
I want to be alone, not some lusted and desired treasure.


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