The Poems of Goethe by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (ebook reader with highlight function txt) 📖

to see again.

To my love, then, quick repair,

Whisper softly to his heart; Yet, to give him pain, beware,

Nor my bosom's pangs impart.

Tell him, but in accents coy,

That his love must be my life; Both, with feelings fraught with joy,

In his presence will be rife.

1815. -----

THE REUNION.

CAN it be! of stars the star,

Do I press thee to my heart? In the night of distance far,

What deep gulf, what bitter smart! Yes, 'tis thou, indeed, at last,

Of my joys the partner dear! Mindful, though, of sorrows past,

I the present needs must fear.

When the still-unfashion'd earth

Lay on God's eternal breast, He ordain'd its hour of birth,

With creative joy possess'd. Then a heavy sigh arose,

When He spake the sentence:--"Be!" And the All, with mighty throes,

Burst into reality.

And when thus was born the light,

Darkness near it fear'd to stay, And the elements with might

Fled on every side away; Each on some far-distant trace,

Each with visions wild employ, Numb, in boundless realm of space,

Harmony and feeling-void.

Dumb was all, all still and dead,

For the first time, God alone! Then He form'd the morning-red,

Which soon made its kindness known: It unravelled from the waste,

Bright and glowing harmony, And once more with love was grac'd

What contended formerly.

And with earnest, noble strife,

Each its own Peculiar sought; Back to full, unbounded life

Sight and feeling soon were brought. Wherefore, if 'tis done, explore

How? why give the manner, name? Allah need create no more,

We his world ourselves can frame.

So, with morning pinions bright,

To thy mouth was I impell'd; Stamped with thousand seals by night,

Star-clear is the bond fast held. Paragons on earth are we

Both of grief and joy sublime, And a second sentence:--"Be!"

Parts us not a second time.

1815. -----

SULEIKA.

WITH what inward joy, sweet lay,

I thy meaning have descried! Lovingly thou seem'st to say

That I'm ever by his side;

That he ever thinks of me,

That he to the absent gives All his love's sweet ecstasy,

While for him alone she lives.

Yes, the mirror which reveals

Thee, my loved one, is my breast; This the bosom, where thy seals

Endless kisses have impress'd.

Numbers sweet, unsullied truth,

Chain me down in sympathy! Love's embodied radiant youth,

In the garb of poesy!

1819.* -----

IN thousand forms mayst thou attempt surprise,

Yet, all-beloved-one, straight know I thee; Thou mayst with magic veils thy face disguise,

And yet, all-present-one, straight know I thee.

Upon the cypress' purest, youthful bud,

All-beauteous-growing-one, straight know I thee; In the canal's unsullied, living flood,

All-captivating-one, well know I thee.

When spreads the water-column, rising proud,

All-sportive one, how gladly know I thee; When, e'en in forming, is transform'd the cloud,

All-figure-changing-one, there know I thee.

Veil in the meadow-carpet's flowery charms,

All-checkered-starry-fair-one, know I thee; And if a plant extend its thousand arms,

O, all-embracing-one, there know I thee.

When on the mount is kindled morn's sweet light,

Straightway, all-gladdening-one, salute I thee, The arch of heaven o'er head grows pure and bright,--

All-heart-expanding-one, then breathe I thee.

That which my inward, outward sense proclaims,

Thou all-instructing-one, I know through thee; And if I utter Allah's hundred names,

A name with each one echoes, meant for thee.

1819.* -----

IX. SAKE NAME.

THE CONVIVIAL BOOK.

CAN the Koran from Eternity be?

'Tis worth not a thought! Can the Koran a creation, then, be?

Of that, I know nought! Yet that the book of all books it must be,

I believe, as a Mussulman ought. That from Eternity wine, though, must be,

I ever have thought; That 'twas ordain'd, ere the Angels, to be,

As a truth may be taught. Drinkers, however these matters may be,

Gaze on God's face, fearing nought.

1815. -----

YE'VE often, for our drunkenness,

Blamed us in ev'ry way, And, in abuse of drunkenness,

Enough can never say. Men, overcome by drunkenness,

Are wont to lie till day; And yet I find my drunkenness

All night-time make me stray; For, oh! 'tis Love's sweet drunkenness

That maketh me its prey, Which night and day, and day and night,

My heart must needs obey,-- A heart that, in its drunkenness,

Pours forth full many a lay, So that no trifling drunkenness

Can dare assert its sway. Love, song, and wine's sweet drunkenness,

By night-time and by day,-- How god-like is the drunkenness

That maketh me its prey!

1815. -----

X. MATHAL NAME.

BOOK OF PARABLES.

FROM heaven there fell upon the foaming wave

A timid drop; the flood with anger roared,--

But God, its modest boldness to reward, Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave. Its form the mussel captive took,

And to its lasting glory and renown,

The pearl now glistens in our monarch's crown, With gentle gleam and loving look.

1819.* -----

BULBUL'S song, through night hours cold,

Rose to Allah's throne on high;

To reward her melody, Giveth he a cage of gold. Such a cage are limbs of men,--

Though at first she feels confin'd,

Yet when all she brings to mind, Straight the spirit sings again.

1819.* -----

IN the Koran with strange delight A peacock's feather met my sight: Thou'rt welcome in this holy place, The highest prize on earth's wide face! As in the stars of heaven, in thee, God's greatness in the small we see; For he whose gaze whole worlds bath bless'd His eye hath even here impress'd, And the light down in beauty dress'd, So that e'en monarchs cannot hope In splendour with the bird to cope. Meekly enjoy thy happy lot, And so deserve that holy spot!

1815. -----

ALL kinds of men, both small and great, A fine-spun web delight to create, And in the middle they take their place, And wield their scissors with wondrous grace. But if a besom should sweep that way: "What a most shameful thing," they say,-- "They've crush'd a mighty palace to-day."

1815. -----

IT IS GOOD.

IN Paradise while moonbeams play'd,

Jehovah found, in slumber deep, Adam fast sunk; He gently laid

Eve near him,--she, too, fell asleep. There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine, God's two most beauteous thoughts divine.-- When this He saw, He cried:--'Tis Good!!! And scarce could move from where He stood.

No wonder, that our joy's complete While eye and eye responsive meet, When this blest thought of rapture moves us-- That we're with Him who truly loves us, And if He cries:--Good, let it be! 'Tis so for both, it seems to me. Thou'rt clasp'd within these arms of mine, Dearest of all God's thoughts divine!

1815. -----

XI. PARIS NAME.

BOOK OF THE PARSEES.

THE BEQUEST OF THE ANCIENT PERSIAN FAITH.

BRETHREN, what bequest to you should come From the lowly poor man, going home, Whom ye younger ones with patience tended, Whose last days ye honour'd and defended?

When we oft have seen the monarch ride, Gold upon him, gold on ev'ry side; Jewels on him, on his courtiers all, Thickly strewed as hailstones when they fall,

Have ye e'er known envy at the sight? And not felt your gaze become more bright, When the sun was, on the wings of morning, Darnawend's unnumber'd peaks adorning,

As he, bow-like, rose? How each eye dwelt On the glorious scene! I felt, I felt, Thousand times, as life's days fleeted by, Borne with him, the coming one, on high.

God upon His throne then to proclaim, Him, the life-fount's mighty Lord, to name, Worthily to prize that glorious sight, And to wander on beneath His light.

When the fiery orb was all defined, There I stood, as though in darkness, blind, Beat my breast, my quicken'd members threw On the earth, brow-foremost, at the view.

Let this holy, great bequest reward Brotherly good-will and kind regard: SOLEMN DUTY'S DAILY observation.-- More than this, it needs no revelation.

If its gentle hands a new-born one Move, then straightway turn it tow'rd the sun,-- Soul and body dip in bath of fire! Then each morning's favour 'twill acquire.

To the living one, commit the dead, O'er the beast let earth and dust be spread, And, so far as may extend your might, What ye deem impure, conceal from sight.

Till your plains to graceful purity, That the sun with joy your labours see; When ye plant, your trees in rows contrive, For he makes the Regular to thrive.

E'en the floods that through the channel rush Must not fail in fulness or in gush; And as Senderud, from mountain high, Rises pure, in pureness must it die.

Not to weaken water's gentle fall, Carefully cleanse out the channels all; Salamander, snake, and rush, and reed,-- All destroy,--each monster and each weed.

If thus pure ye earth and water keep, Through the air the sun will gladly peep, Where he, worthily enshrined in space, Worketh life, to life gives holy grace.

Ye, by toil on toil so sorely tried, Comfort take, the All is purified; And now man, as priest, may boldly dare From the stone God's image to prepare.

When the flame burns joyously and bright, Limbs are supple, radiant is the night; On the hearth when fire with ardour glows, Ripe the sap of plants and creatures grows.

Dragging wood, with rapture be it done, 'Tis the seed of many an earthly sun; Plucking Pambeh, gladly may ye say:-- This, as wick, the Holy will convey.

If ye meekly, in each burning lamp, See the nobler light's resplendent stamp, Ne'er will Fate prevent you, void of feeling, At God's throne at morningtide from kneeling.

This is Being's mighty signet, then, God's pure glass to angels and to men; Each word lisped the Highest's praise to sound, Ring in ring, united there is found.

From the shore of Senderud ascendeth, Up to Darnawend its pinions bendeth, As He dawns, with joy to greet His light, You with endless blessings to requite.