作曲 : Benjamin Britten
My mind beats on
and no words come.
Taxing, tiring,
unyielding, unproductive,
my mind beats on.
No sleep restores me.
I, Aschenbach,
famous as a master-writer,
successful, honoured,
self-discipline my strength,
routine the order of my days,
imagination servant of my will.
My mind beats on,
why am I now at loss?
I reject the words called forth by passion
I suspect the easy judgement of the heart -
now passion itself has left me
and delight in fastidious choice.
and I am at an end.
O tender leaves and tardy springs refresh me!