The mouthpiece of the half-inarticulate, all-suggesting music that is at once the very soul and the inseparable garment of romance.

Winter has caused damage everywhere: meadow and forest are all grey, where before you heard many sounds. If I could see the girls play ball on the street, then bird song would come back. If only I could sleep through the winter! When I am awake I feel only hatred that his power is so far and wide. God knows, he even fights with May; I picked flowers where there is now snow.

For five hundred years after Walther's death - until Goethe - no German lyric poet was his equal.

The mouthpiece of the half-inarticulate, all-suggesting music that is at once the very soul and the inseparable garment of romance.