Täglich geh' ich heraus, und such ein anderes immer,
Habe längst sie befragt, alle die Pfade des Lands;
Droben die kühlenden Höhn, die Schatten alle besuch ich,
Und die Quellen; hinauf irret der Geist und hinab,
Ruh erbittend; so flieht das getroffene Wild in die Wälder,
Wo es um Mittag sonst sicher im Dunkel geruht;
Aber nimmer erquickt sein grünes Lager das Herz ihm,
Jammernd und schlummerlos treibt es die Stachel umher.
Nicht die Wärme des Lichts, und nicht die Kühle der Nacht hilft,
Und im Wogen des Stroms taucht es die Wunden umsonst.
Und wie ihm vergebens die Erd ihr fröhliches Heilkraut
Reicht, und das gärende Blut keiner der Zephire stillt,
So, ihr Lieben! auch mir, so will es scheinen, und niemand
Kann von der Stirne mir nehmen den traurigen Traum?
Day after day I set forth, always renewing my searching,
Long since I’ve been to consult all of the paths of the land;
Overhead the cooling heights, and all of the shadows I visit,
Stopping by every spring; upward my spirit, and down,
Wanders, pleading for peace; so flees the struck deer in the forest,
Deep in the woods where it once rested at noon in the shade;
Yet the green bed no longer revives its distressed heart,
Wailing and restless, it’s borne hither and yon by the thorn.
Neither the warmth of the light, nor even the coolness of night helps,
Nor to kneel by the brook, dipping the wound in its waves.
Just as the earth’s kind offerings of healing herbs are no use,
Just as the Zephyrs all fail clotting the seething blood,
So, too, dear friends, so too is it with me, it would seem, and
No one can lift from my brow this sorrowful dream?
Yes, it’s surely no use, you gods of death, when once you’ve
Seized and subdued in your grasp, vanquished the fallen man,
When you’ve cruelly carried your captive deep into ghastly
Night; it is useless to search, useless to plead for release,
Anger is wasted, nor answers patient complacence the awful
Banishment, to smile hearing your soberest song.
Must it be? So forget your salvation and silently slumber.
Yet there nonetheless swells, hopeful, a sound in your breast;
Still you can not, even now, my spirit! still you can not grow
Used to this stagnance, and dream deep in the leaden sleep.
I’ve no reason for joy, yet I’m taken to garland my own locks;
Am I not stranded, alone? Something more kindly inclined
Must be distant approaching and near, and, astonished, I must smile,
Marvel how blessed, at peace, even in sorrow I feel.
Licht der Liebe! scheinest du denn auch Toten, du goldnes!
Bilder aus hellerer Zeit, leuchtet ihr mir in die Nacht?
Liebliche Gärten seid, ihr abendrötlichen Berge,
Seid willkommen und ihr, schweigende Pfade des Hains,
Zeugen himmlischen Glücks, und ihr, hochschauende Sterne,
Die mir damals so oft segnende Blicke gegönnt!
Euch, ihr Liebenden auch, ihr schönen Kinder des Maitags,
Stille Rosen und euch, Lilien, nenn ich noch oft!
Wohl gehn Frühlinge fort, ein Jahr verdränget das andre,
Wechselnd und streitend, so tost droben vorüber die Zeit
Über sterblichem Haupt, doch nicht vor seligen Augen,
Und den Liebenden ist anderes Leben geschenkt.
Denn sie alle, die Tag und Jahre der Sterne, sie waren
Diotima! um uns innig und ewig vereint;
Light of love! Do you shine, too, golden, upon the departed,
Visions of brighter times, still you revisit my night?
Lovely gardens, and you, twilit luminous mountains,
You I greet; and you, silent paths of the grove,
Heralds of heavenly bliss, and you stars, who gaze ever upward,
You who’ve so often before cast me your heartening glance!
You, you lovers, too, you beautiful children of springtime,
Tranquil roses, and you, lilies, I often invoke.
Springtimes certainly pass, one year supplanting another,
Ever conflicting in change; so time rages above,
Over the mortal’s head, yet not before eyes of the blessed,
And to the lovers is life otherwise granted anew.
For they, all of the days and the numberless years of the stars, were,
Diotima! as one infinite moment in us;
But we – we, contented, conjoined like the loving swans, when
Calmly they rest by the lake, or, when rocked by the waves,
They gaze into the water below as it glides underneath them,
And aetherial blue mirrors the clouds overhead,
So did we stroll on the earth, and whenever the north wind threatened,
He, the lovers’ foe, bearing sorrow; and when
All the branches fell bare, and the wind gusted with cold rain,
Calmly, at ease, we smiled, felt a god of our own
Amidst our intimate talks, and in singing the hymn of our one soul,
Wholly at peace with ourselves, childlike, joyful alone.
But the house now is desolate, vacant; my eye has been taken,
Even myself have I lost, lost in the losing of her.
Therefore I aimlessly wander, and just as the shadows I must live,
And all that remains strikes me as senseless and void.
Feiern möcht ich; aber wofür? und singen mit andern,
Aber so einsam fehlt jegliches Göttliche mir.
Dies ist’s, dies mein Gebrechen, ich weiß, es lähmet ein Fluch mir
Darum die Sehnen, und wirft, wo ich beginne, mich hin,
Daß ich fühllos sitze den Tag, und stumm wie die Kinder,
Nur vom Auge mir kalt öfters die Träne noch schleicht,
Und die Pflanze des Felds, und der Vögel Singen mich trüb macht,
Weil mit Freuden auch sie Boten des Himmlischen sind,
Aber mir in schaudernder Brust die beseelende Sonne,
Kühl und fruchtlos mir dämmert, wie Strahlen der Nacht,
Ach! und nichtig und leer, wie Gefängniswände, der Himmel
Eine beugende Last über dem Haupte mir hängt!
I’m inclined to rejoice, but why? and join in singing with others;
But, so lonesome, I lack even a trace of the gods.
This, I know, this is my affliction: my every sinew
Made lame, stilled by a curse, each step cast ever back,
So that benumbed I sit daylong, and speechless as children,
Save that a frequent tear coldly steals forth from my eye;
And the plants of the field, and the singing of birds bring me sorrow,
For they, carrying joy, too are the heralds of gods.
Yet in my own shuddering chest the life-bearing sun’s light
Dawns but fruitless and cold, just as the rays of the night.
Desolate, empty, like the walls of a prison, the whole sky
Hangs, an impending weight hovering over my head.
Once I had known you otherwise, dear youth! yet can no prayer
Answered return you to me? No path lead me to you?
Shall I too, then, suffer the fate of the godless, they who
Once with glimmering eyes sat at the heavenly feast?
But soon glutted, over-sated, the revelrous guests, now
Fallen to silence, and now, under the song of the wind,
Now deep under the blossoming earth are asleep, until some day
Some great miracle’s force draws them, the sunken,
Once again, returning renewed, to traverse the green earth. –
Sacred breath streams through, godly, their luminous forms,
When the feast inspires itself, and love’s floods surge forth,
And imbued by the gods pours forth the animate stream,
As it rings out below and the night declares her treasures,
And deep from the beds of the brooks glitters the buried gold. –
Aber o du, die schon am Scheidewege mir damals,
Da ich versank vor dir, tröstend ein schöneres wies,
Du, die Großes zu sehn, und froher die Götter zu singen,
Schweigend, wie sie, mich einst stille begeisternd gelehrt;
Götterkind! erscheinest du mir, und grüßest, wie einst, mich,
Redest wieder, wie einst, höhere Dinge mir zu?
Siehe! weinen vor dir, und klagen muß ich, wenn schon noch,
Denkend edlerer Zeit, dessen die Seele sich schämt.
Denn so lange, so lang auf matten Pfaden der Erde
Hab ich, deiner gewohnt, dich in der Irre gesucht,
Freudiger Schutzgeist! aber umsonst, und Jahre zerrannen,
Seit wir ahnend um uns glänzen die Abende sahn.
But you, who already then, at the path of our parting, consoling,
Showed me a greater beauty, who taught me to praise,
There as I fell before you, the gods, more joyously singing,
Speechless as they are, who once, silently rapturing, taught;
Child of heaven! Do you appear again as you once did?
Greet me once again, speaking of loftier things?
See! even now I must cry, and fall to lamenting before you,
Dwelling on nobler times, bringing shame to my soul.
For so long now, accustomed to you, so long have I tread the
Matted paths of the earth, aimlessly searching for you,
Joyous guardian! but in vain, for already have years gone,
Since we presciently sat basked in the evenings’ glow.
So will ich, ihr Himmlischen! denn auch danken, und endlich
Atmet aus leichter Brust wieder des Sängers Gebet.
Und wie, wenn ich mit ihr, auf sonniger Höhe mit ihr stand,
Spricht belebend ein Gott innen vom Tempel mich an.
Leben will ich denn auch! schon grünt’s! wie von heiliger Leier
Ruft es von silbernen Bergen Apollons voran!
Komm! es war wie ein Traum! Die blutenden Fittiche sind ja
Schon genesen, verjüngt leben die Hoffnungen all.
Großes zu finden, ist viel, ist viel noch übrig, und wer so
Liebte, gehet, er muß, gehet zu Göttern die Bahn.
Und geleitet ihr uns, ihr Weihestunden! ihr ernsten,
Jugendlichen! o bleibt, heilige Ahnungen, ihr
Fromme Bitten! und ihr Begeisterungen und all ihr
Guten Genien, die gerne bei Liebenden sind;
Bleibt so lange mit uns, bis wir auf gemeinsamem Boden
Dort, wo die seligen all niederzukehren bereit,
Dort, wo die Adler sind, die Gestirne, die Boten des Vaters,
Dort, wo die Musen, woher Helden und Liebende sind,
Dort uns, oder auch hier, auf tauender Insel begegnen,
Wo die Unsrigen erst, blühend in Gärten gesellt,
Wo die Gesänge wahr, und länger die Frühlinge schön sind,
Und von neuem ein Jahr unserer Seele beginnt.
Therefore, O heavenly ones, I too am grateful, and lastly
Breathe once again from a light breast the singer’s prayer.
And yet, just as when with her I stood upon sun-bathed summits,
Now, too, assuring, a god speaks from the temple within.
Life I too shall embrace! Renewed, it already blossoms,
Calls forth from Apollo’s silvery peaks!
Come, it was like a dream, and now the wounded pinions
Have already healed; all hopes live renewed.
Much it is to find greatness, yet much remains. And whoever
So has loved travels – he must – travels the path to the gods.
So accompany us, you hours of remembrance, you solemn
Youthful ones; stay, all you sacred presentiments, you
Pious prayers, and you, divine inspirations, and all you
Kindly spirits, who dwell gladly by lovers’ sides;
Stay so long among us until we – there on the common
Ground, where the saints reside, ready at once to return;
There, among eagles and stars, who herald the heavenly Father;
There where the muses dwell, whence heroes and lovers all come;
There, or even here, on the dew-covered isle, we’re united,
Where what is ours may first blossom in gardens conjoined,
Where the hymns may be true and the beauty of springtimes last longer,
Where at last a new year of our soul may begin.
You alone does your light preserve in the light, heroine,
You does your graciousness, kindly one, lovingly keep;
Nor are you ever alone, but you find companions abundant,
Where you bloom and repose, rest among roses of spring;
And the Father himself, through softly whispering muses,
Gently sends to your bedside a lullaby song.
Yes! Still her it must be, from head to foot hovering before me,
Softly approaching, as then, comes the Athenian forth!
And as, kindliest spirit, serenely your ponderous brow casts,
Blessing and certain, your light down among mortals below,
So you come forth and attest it to me, so that I may repeat it,
Tell it to others, for others, too, fail to believe,
That joy is longer enduring than any anger or worry,
And that a golden day daily awaits at its end.