The night is quiet, the streets are calm,
In this house my beloved once lived:
She has long since left the town,
But the house still stands, here in the same place.
A man stands there also and looks to the sky,
And wrings his hands, overwhelmed by pain:
I am terrified — when I see his face,
The moon shows me my own form!
O you Doppelgänger! you pale comrade!
Why do you ape the pain of my love
Which tormented me upon this spot
So many a night, so long ago?
—Heinrich Heine, Buch der Lieder
Be seeing you.
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