Here is my translation of the poem that opens Heinrich Heine’s delightful travel narrative Die Harzreise (1826). This poem is all about how it feels to leave the city of Göttingen — famous, he tells us, for its sausages and its university — to walk in nature among simple mountain folk. Schwarze Röcke, seidne Strümpfe, Weiße, höfliche… Continue reading Heine heads for the hills