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I once saw many flowers blooming Upon my way, in indolence I scorned to pick them in my going And passed in proud indifference. Now, when my grave is dug, they taunt me; Now, when I'm sick to death in pain, In mocking torment still they haunt me, Those fragrant blooms of my disdain.


Heinrich Heine


#flowers #illness #poetry #symbolism #death



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Did you know about Heinrich Heine?

In 1844 Heine wrote series of musical feuilletons over several different music seasons discussing the music of the day. The Prussian government angry at the publication of Vorwärts put pressure on France to deal with its authors and in January 1845 Marx was deported to Belgium. In 1815 on Napoleon's downfall it became part of Prussia.

Heine spent the last 25 years of his life as an expatriate in Paris. He was also a journalist essayist and literary critic.

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