cultural resources in henrik ibsen's early environment - Ibsen.net

I know a rumor
From which nobody can escape:
Since it lives in one's own mind,
Gnaws inwardly at the heart;
I know of no consolation against it,
Not even, not even love itself!
Not this wild ardor
In your eye now, Fernando!
This is the last time I speak,
Soon I shall be to you as if I were dead.
We must part, my love!
But let our parting be sweet
Like the sun, as it drops
Gently and quietly under the waves,
Sends to the last forests catching its rays
Its silent farewell!
Let me think I have slept,
Dreamed the love-song of my youth,
Let me rest my weary head
On your breast yet once more,
My Fernando!
Clara! Clara!
FERNANDO.
CLARA (starts).
Sh! What is that? Spurs clatter
Do you hear? In the corridor!
Heaven, help! It is my husband;
Great God! You are lost!
Not as long as I have this.
FERNANDO (draws his epée).
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