The Lorelei
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The Lorelei are part of the collection of Bronwyn Kincaid. They appear to be able to heal grievous wounds. One of the Lorelei is currently loose.

The Lorelei by Heinrich Heine
Translated by Aaron Kramer

Popular translation:

I cannot explain the sadness
That's fallen on my breast.
An old, old fable haunts me,
And will not let me rest.

The air grows cool in the twilight,
And softly the Rhine flows on;
The peak of a mountain sparkles
Beneath the setting sun.

More lovely than a vision,
A girl sits high up there;
Her golden jewelry glistens,
She combs her golden hair.

With a comb of gold she combs it,
And sings an evensong;
The wonderful melody reaches
A boat, as it sails along.

The boatman hears, with an anguish
More wild than was ever known;
He's blind to the rocks around him;
His eyes are for her alone.

At last the waves devoured
The boat, and the boatman's cry;
And this did with her singing,
The golden Lorelei.

Alternate translation located in the archives of the Universit├Ąt Bremen, 1923:

I cannot tell why this imagined
sorrow has fallen on me;
the ghost of an unburied legend
that will not leave me be.

The air is cool and twilight
flows down the river Rhine;
A single peak in the high light
glistens in the faltering shine.

More lovely than a vision,
A girl sits high up there;
Her golden jewelry glistens,
She combs her golden hair.

With a golden comb she is combing
her hair as she sings a song.
Heard and rehearsed through the gloaming,
it hurries the night along.

The boatman has heard the singing,
in the throes of a strange, wild love.
He only hears the goddess singing,
and is blind to the reefs above.

And lo, the wild waters are springing,
The boat and the boatman are gone.
Then silence. And this, with her singing,
The Lorelei has done.