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Perstory

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Perstory

My beloved person!

You will be able to imagine the joy I felt in reading your letter - the melancholy that I melted into when you addressed me so kindly, so sweetly, too lovingly - I have never longed more for your blessed breast rest, than at the moment - how is it possible that we could ever exchange hard words with so much love! Good Heavenly Man, I feel that I only make up a whole with you and that your strength belongs to keep me up in the tangle of life that I have felt so much since your absence that I bless every moment where I am rest a little and sit down alone.

For a long time I waited for your letter, lastly sent to the post office daily - it is from Thursday and I received it only on Sunday - I got scared, finally I finally decided on Saturday that you would return, and the order in your room became on the whole hastily made, so that you would have been disturbed by a little at 7 o'clock. Now I did not know what to think. God be praised that I was redeemed the day after. That you do not say a word from the day of your return is incomprehensible to me. I ask you, with the goodness of your heart, that you announce it to me, so that I can meet my sweet man with all the comforts that can make his house his dearest again. The 14 days will be up soon, and you will not stay out any longer? ...

I often saw Emanuel, Otto a few times. Good Otto sent me a cake on June 1, Emanuel Blumen, and Amone gave me a little feast in the garden of Donop. In the morning all acquaintances came to me - but I did not accept because of the Rumors in the house nobody. Yesterday on Sunday I asked the Bobeneck, Seebeck, Amöne in the walk, which I have allowed myself since your departure. 
Letters are less than jeh, I received one from Berlin and one from Altenburg. You have just been sent a book from Jena by a certain man about government and politics, which you should review. I do not consider the letter worth the letter.

I follow your orders of not touching your things on time, and I believe you will miss nothing, for I myself have dusted and arranged all the papers. 

Dear

Dear, tell me everything; you can tell me everything, and how proud, how content it makes me! 

You gave me strength! In short, we are fine. (How strange, how cutting and painful was our intercourse at the beginning!)

How abandoned, how laughed I feel without you. With you, beside you,

I had courage for everything; you teach me to do what I think is good; You taught me what I could have had in the world:

you are the only one in the world who ever loved me, who treated me like I did others. 

Yes, I like to confess it to you with all the urge of gratitude; 

I learned to be loved by you, and you created something new in me ...

I love you very tenderly again, you have seen it a hundred times; I could spend my life with you; 

it is my sincere, serious, now only wish; I consecrated it to you in joy and the greatest satisfaction,

I recognize your whole value, and not a single dot of your being and kindness escapes me. 

I am true to you from lust, love and the most relaxed choice. I have no claim about you. 

I am your friend, as a man could be. You are bound by nothing in me, I want to serve you with my blood. 

And is not it natural that I finally - and it happens clearly only through you - wants to be recognized:

I would love in you, every cognition, and do it too. 

I have enough alone, and shadows of my fire colored, loved; finally I embrace you, you live and you are! 

But do not think that I love you without any trouble. Your possession is necessary to me in every sense. 

But where there was satisfaction, it would be food forever. "I have possessed it, the happiness of life."

Childish people are still chauffeuring after this possession. Has the sky stopped for a while? 

A languor for this happiness I carry in the heart; but as long as I live, arrows, sufferings,

and sorrows remain only the answer, the food, and if I am never to have any more, I think of our summer and you! 

Has the sky stopped for a while? A languor for this happiness I carry in the heart; but as long as I live, arrows, sufferings,

and sorrows remain only the answer, the food, and if I am never to have any more, I think of our summer and you! 

Has the sky stopped for a while? A languor for this happiness I carry in the heart; but as long as I live, arrows, sufferings,

and sorrows remain only the answer, the food, and if I am never to have any more,

I think of our summer and you!

My little darling, my little darling, my dear, my little dove, my life,

my sweet, sweet life, my light of life, my everything, my belongings, my castles, fields,

meadows and vineyards, sun of my life, sun, moon and Stars, heaven and earth, my past

and future, my bride, my girl, my dear friend, my innermost, my heart's blood, my guts, my eye-star, my dear, how do I call you? 

My golden child, my pearl, my gem, my crown, my queen and empress. 

You darling of my heart, my highest and dearest, my everything and everything, my wife,

my wedding, the baptism of my children, my tragedy, my fame. 

Oh, you are my second better self, my virtues, my merits, my hope, the forgiveness of my sins,

my future and bliss, oh, little daughter,

You tell me that you are leaving me for a noble person, a great lady you want to live with. 

It seems to me that your vanity is good for letting me know this news. 

I do not know if it's your heart's penchant, but I doubt it,

I know that love knows no difference in dividing all women into two classes, the beautiful and the ugly. 

I also know that a young girl of sixteen was worth more and always worth more than a stout hag of forty years,

though she came from Bourbon blood. 

Think about it, I give you twenty-four hours to think about it, and rest assured that you will not find the same thing twice. 

Do not think that I am embarrassed. I have another lover, who outshines you and is younger and fresher than you; 

he is as beautiful as Adonis. Pooh! Will you say when I tell you that it's my wig maker. 

But great souls, who boast that they know how to live, often prefer their lackeys to their spouses. 

Ask your beloved; Would you have been in your bed if she had been ranked? 

He wants to marry me, but I do not like it, because I might be tempted to make him a cuckold the next morning. 

Now he is also happy to buy everything for me, to bring everything he brings to me and we will see a little further out. 

As long as we love each other, things will be fine. Farewell. And consider it; 

I have a weakness for you now, It should soon be over and in vain would you want to have it again when you are tired of your noble lady. 

The wigmaker will have stabbed you, you'll race, and I'll laugh at you. 

I am your servant

I let your love know my great longing and desire that I have your love

and want to know how it is with your love and want to know how it is with your love for the hour,

me can hardly see that the Künzlin-Bot again einreit.


All birds that you sent us, have tasted us! 

We want to save the pepper to home on new year! 

We want to come home soon - God bless you! 

And dutiful do-gooders Thine and the maiden half and do otherwise in all things! 

And if you write that you would like to be here in the Burgundian field,

I would like to have a magic box and put you under it.

Good night, you dear angel! 

Oh, if it is you, if you are not, then open all the veins of your white body,

that the hot foaming blood from a thousand beautiful fountains inject,

so I want to see you and drink from the thousand sources,

until I am intoxicated and your death with to rejoice in raging frenzy,

all your blood and mine in tears are crying again, until your heart rises again and you trust me,

because mine lives in your pulse. 

Oh, if you knew me, you would lose the courage to love me, whom you can not believe because you do not know me. -

I know so much that it breaks my heart to say it, but speaking is a slow totemic, and if you lie in my arms for only one night,

you should hatch my love on your warm breasts and you would know everything . 

what I know, and did not have to worry about anything I can say because I want. 

Truly, dear child, virtue is tender and one can not speak to it, youth should learn from life, oh dear youth,

why can not I teach you, right, you do not love me? 

Yes, people do, you do it too, because you also believe what people know is bad and the secret good. 

It may seem strange to you at these words, for you like all sorts of things that one should not,

dear poor two-legged angels in hell, and you, Gunderödchen, in the Frauleinstift, how much I love you devil and their angel; 

my heart is not a poor soul: all this I write in a sweet turning intoxication, the moonlit night and the spring have not shied, 

In front of my eyes to accomplish the sweet and sacred life's work, and not to lose the consciousness of such lust,

they have broken the sigh of their love at the echo of my bosom, and as they embraced, they turned into a golden, sweet, bitter,

voluptuous serpent, who surrounded me with the living, oppressive, twitching fetters of her body. 

So I sat on the mountain and looked into the wide valley, which threw itself like a light mountain on my heart, and then

I tore off my clothes, that the embrace was chubby, like lightning fast and electric, the golden snake bites into me

Heart and wriggled up in me as in tortuous pleasure, they poisoned me with divine life and in me was another life,

it pulls me with resulting resistance through veins and Mark, 

and the serpent traversed the wound and now joyfully and lovingly curls around my heart, it is too much that I have. 

So I bite my veins and I want to give it to you, but you should have done it and suck. 

Do not open your veins Gunderödchen, I want to bite you. Oh,

I'm an Arabian steed, why not, if I had you here and you celebrate such weddings next to me,

then moonlit and spring should be the echo that I was to them. 

(If you do not understand me, write me so I will not write anymore.) why not,

if I had you here and you celebrate such weddings beside me,

then moonlit and spring should be the echo that I was to them. 

(If you do not understand me, write me so I will not write anymore.) why not,

if I had you here and you celebrate such weddings beside me, then moonlit and spring should be the echo that I was to them. 

(If you do not understand me, write me so I will not write anymore.)

Write me quite reasonable letters, dear angel, and if you can love me, do it, not a drop of such sweet wine should be lost. 

I drink your health with every look I take in the spring, and every one of my thoughts about you is a health I get for springtime. 

If you are dear, I must love you, that is the love being, my being and your being. 

Farewell and have the courage to cry only because you are not with me in the flesh but only in your thoughts,

for both are one, and only in the Lord's Supper we enjoy the God, for all the Word must become flesh, even that word of Love.

My dearest friend! 

Last Saturday, I read with pleasure the most important letter which I still receive from your hands,

and read with the purest joy that a honest, tender heart can feel. 

Five joyless years have prepared me through many tribulations to his joyful welcome. 

These long trials have made me see the nature of my love, and the righteous reasons for it, in all its light. 

Now I have to thank them with the frankness, with which I not only receive your eternally expensive communication,

but with which I also place these lines. I have nothing to fear from all this, what you my only lover, to consider, advise me. 

Was it impossible for my heart even then to forget the impression when you became involved in your being here,

for I was able, without committing a criminal faithlessness, to change my inclination; 

How should it be guilty of a fuss? 

A mistake that could not otherwise be committed with the linkage of the vicious vice and that would make me even scornful in my eyes? 

The constant remembrance of my only and best friend will remind me of my duties at all times. 

I have never been compelled to virtue by compulsion; I was very vividly introduced to their excellence and worth; 

But to follow her was left to my own choice. However,

it has always seemed so infinitely estimable to me that I chose it out of my own free will. 

I had set myself firmly, all adversity, what you and your faithful followers often encounter,

rather than endure, that I should have chosen to be happy in a vicious way. 

Virtue leads those who are left to it, and give it their own, the best way; it shows them bliss, which,

if they are not so much in the eye, are nevertheless of longer duration than all the fugitive, apparent goods of this world. 

I hereby take our friendship to the witness. The end of it must have been so splendid recently. 

Our wishes are fulfilled. Now it is only up to me to hand over completely to you, my chosen friend,

a heart which providence has already given you, and which has been made worthy by many a sample of your love. 

I am firmly convinced that we are both destined by God Himself. 

I conclude this both from the wonderful way that makes our acquaintance, as well as from the secret joyous desire, so that

I always desire to belong to you forever. Now, in the name of God, I promise you, my dearest and dearest friend, in all my life,

with the firm intention of loving you above all else in the world and being true to you to the death. 

In the continuation of your love all suffering will be bearable to me and will not cause any change in my mind. 

Next postage you should also receive a visible sign confirming this engagement because I can not handle it today. 

I did not want to make you worry about a postage day about the certainty of my sentiments. 

God let the blessing of my and your dearest parents rest on us,

so our outward happiness will be in accordance with the inner contentment of our minds. 

I plead with you the continual continuation of your love from the mine,

I promise you again to my grave, and with what pleasure

I sign today for the first time of my dearly beloved friend betrothed bride and everlasting friend

That's what the vernacular calls it. I pray for you every night,

I have seen and loved you, the blue-eyed king! 

And then you saw me, and I was allowed to talk to you and caress your hairless hair. 

And you kissed me. My King, I'm just a simple maid,

but now richer than the mistress of the estate and probably even the queen. 

No one else will ever kiss me again, and if you die, I die too. 

It is certainly a sin to love a king and to die with him, but it is war and death everywhere. 

There, I think, must be said quickly, what makes me so happy,

because maybe tomorrow you will not hear it anymore, and I can not say it anymore,

because the death in between. 

And then the pastor also thinks: When fighting is done, many crooked things are straight. 

So it's probably not a sin,

Your letter is too beautiful for me to answer. 

With kisses, with tears of ecstasy with equally noble attitudes,

I would rather listen to you. How tenderly I thanked you for the foresight! 

What kind of a Himalite heart is yours. Oh believe, beloved friend, that you can not be loved any more than I will love you. 

I am capable of knowing and loving the infinite worth of your soul, and I am proud of it,

I rejoice with a sweet impatience for our reunion. How rare are the hours that we want to live there!

The ode that I send you expresses some of the great sentiment that awakened me in your last letter. 

Why am I not such a beautiful spirit as I want.

I would have soon waved to your dear letter, if I did not want to send you my "spring" at the same time. 

I do not know if you have already read a German poetry with Latin letters.

Because in both of my poems I speak to you, your friend, and tell you what always concerns my thoughts, so I want to close here. 

I embrace you most tenderly, my amiable Sophie, live happily, and love me. 

Yes, divine friend, we want to love each other forever and sure, we will become another example of bliss ...

If you see me cry, my Sophie! Is it a shame for an unfortunate and sentimental being to shed tears? 

Oh, that's the only sweetie that's left to me. 

Because when I cry, some inexplicable but real lust mixes with my sadness. 

Oh, my friend, what a feeling is love, since it can relieve such cruel suffering! 

We thank her with the power to endure our pain, as we have thanked her for our ecstasies. 

But the feeling of loss is as alive as that of pleasure and much more enduring. 

Oh, I have lost all happiness of happy love. 

Now I experience all the sufferings of the persecuted love ...

I dare not judge, but I cry and have not enough sigh for all my sufferings. 

What courage would not be theirs, Lover? What force should I not show under such a burden? 

Can a thought, a sensation, a feeling that does not increase its weight blossom in me?

Ordinary man finds that courage is not to fear death. 

Should not you say that you are very happy? No,

but they only love each other and are always beside themselves. 

You have a thousand wishes, a thousand passions and not a passion. 

Oh, if they loved a single object that made all their hope, that united all their inclinations, all their desires! 

If they then lost him, they would fear nothing more, they would brave terrible horrors.

The deliberation and the mind certainly suffice to belittle the value of life. 

But the suffering of the heart leaves him no more. Oh, who would want to own it if he can no longer enjoy it! 

Oh, Sophie, we need much more courage not to wish for death than to fear him. 

Since the time, whose excessive duration is a true death, has devoured our joys, what else should we dispute,

if she is not to return them to us? Oh, I leave her without regret everything that is not meant for you.

Every day I become sadder, my friend, and I relentlessly pour on the paper the poison that soaks my heart. 

You know that two lines, two lines from you, would heal me quickly. 

And surely you have no less need to hear the complaints of your Gabriel than to receive your comfort. 

My Sophie is no less emotional because she is less bubbly. 

And I feel all that she suffers in these same moments of expectation and torment, where I sigh louder but not bitterly. 

Who even knows whether the privilege of knowing everything that I do not know is not an agony for you, dear spouse? 

At least I hope, and maybe you do not hope anymore.

Farewell, my Sophie Gabriel, whom I love, whom I adore infinitely more than I can say and she herself can believe it. 

I send you millions of kisses, which you should accept and I ask you to stir you vigorously, but not so that it bothers his mom. 

I love this child very much, but I do not want to be eager to ever rival my Sophie.

You do not want to tell me anything about your pregnancy? 

Oh, if only I knew that she was happy, that you did not suffer much, that you are leaving much, that the poor little girl is getting worked up! 

My dear friend, in my first letters I believe I have given you some useful advice about the behavior that you must observe in this regard. 

The stormy pregnancy, whose witness and very attentive observer I have been, has taught me a lot. 

Sophie, dress far enough for your child to lay down as desired. Eat healthy food so that he is well and you too. 

Do not give yourself craving, satisfy your wishes to measure, so that it does not become weak, tasty yet moody. 

And above all, go a lot, but do not strain too much, so that you facilitate your childbirth. 

Oh, I want to watch over this important revolution because the health of women depends on their birth. 

No foolishness, and certainly not rules of wise women, they are all wrong, ruinous and ominous.

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