Liebesglut

 1. Sie liebt mich nicht. Nun brennt mein Herz
Ganz lichterloh vor Liebesschmerz,
Vor Liebesschmerz ganz lichterloh
Als wie gedörrtes Haferstroh.

Und von dem Feuer steigt der Rauch
Mir unaufhaltsam in das Aug',
Daß ich vor Schmerz und vor Verdruß
Viel tausend Tränen weinen muß.

Ach Gott! Nicht lang' ertrag' ich's mehr! -
Reicht mir doch Feuerkübel her!
Die füll' ich bald mit Tränen an,
Daß ich das Feuer löschen kann.

 2. Seitdem du mich so stolz verschmäht,
Härmt' ich mich ab von früh bis spät,
So daß mein Herz bei Nacht und Tag
Als wie auf heißen Kohlen lag.

Und war es dir nicht heiß genug,
Das Herz, das ich im Busen trug,
So nimm es denn zu dieser Frist,
Wenn dir's gebacken lieber ist!

Collection: 
German
1890
Wilhelm Busch

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