Certainly, t-p, I have many. I very much love the following:

Und wenig Wissen, aber der Freude viel
   Ist Sterblichen gegeben,

Warum, o schöne Sonne, genügst du mir
  Du Blüthe meiner Blühthen! am Maitag nicht?
    Was weiß ich höhers denn?

O daß ich lieber wäre, wie Kinder sind?
  Daß ich, wie Nachtigallen, ein sorglos Lied
    Von meiner Wonne sänge!

(Friedrich Hölderlin - 'Und Wenig Wissen')

t-p, do you have any Russian poems you can tell us about?

(Maybe with a translation or an explanation, because I never learned any Russian except for 'hello' and 'thank you', and now I can't even remember those!)

Another one by Brecht, which breaks my heart (Ian may tell me I'm being sentimental ...):

In diesem Land und in dieser Zeit
dürfte es trübe Abende nicht geben, auch hohe Brücken über die Flüsse.
Selbst die Stunden zwischen Nacht und Morgen
und die ganzen Winter dazu; das ist gefährlich! Denn angesichts dieses Elends
werfen die Menschen
in einem Augenblick
ihr unerträgliches Leben fort

Nothing sentimental about that, t-i-n, at least not to me (but I can be quite sentimental at times myself ). Incidentally, when does that poem date from (I don't have a collected edition of Brecht to hand)?

We wonder whether Madame Pianist is familiar with the works of Andrey Biely (1880-1934)? We have read a lot about him, but never managed to find translations of any of his work. In 1912 in Switzerland he participated with Rudolf Steiner in the erection of the Goetheanum, a temple of anthroposophy. Then he returned to Russia in which country he became the theorist of Symbolism. His work is said to "shine with apocalyptic brilliance in a language of radiant power, which, in spite of its excesses, remains incomparable." We would really like to read his things!

No, but it's eminently settable (all those 'ee's!). Has someone set it? If a certain OUP composer hasn't, then I wish he would ...

I'm imagining a long instrumental interlude between lines 3 and 4, but hopefully the setting might surprise me!

One was drawn, after reading this message, to attempt to purchase a copy of one Comrade Brecht's Collected Poems whilst on a trip to the centre of one's locality in order to pay in a cheque and buy some groceries. Whilst positive product- or retailer-placement is decisively contrary to this member's style of posting, one believes that when negative associations are thus drawn in a similar manner, this is a perfectly equitable strategy (as witnessed by this member's avatar, one hopes). Member Pace took time out to inspect the poetry section of a store belonging to the chain named Waterstones, and was dismayed by the inability to locate any such volume of Comrade Brecht, but was somewhat bemused by the presence not only of multiple volumes by Mr Betjeman, but also a variety of curious books brandishing such names as The Nation's Favourite Love Poems and Poetry Please, not to mention the collected works of a certain lady by the name of Ayres, whom investigation reveals to have become most celebrated for a verse exploring the delicate issue of dental matters. Alas, upon a visit immediately afterwards to a member of the chain entitled Books Etc., one was equally dismayed to find not only a similar lack of any poems by Comrade Brecht, but also a poetry section spanning no more than two shelves, which would easily be missed by the casual observer as it is not even signposted.

Nonetheless, an employment of the 'Search Inside' facility on Amazon suggests that the date of Epistel über den Selbstmord may be c. 1920.

... though talking of Betjeman (and risking sentimentality again), there is one I have a bit of a soft spot for:

I made hay while the sun shone,
    My work sold.
Now that the harvest is over
    And the world cold,
Give me the bonus of laughter
    As I lose hold.


Admittedly it doesn't do much in the way of realising the category of the subject