German poet
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Never before had I had so rich an experience of how true was the ancient saw which maintains that the heart is stirred with a new blessedness when it is able to remain steadfast even in the midnight of supreme affliction, and that it is in the course of the utmost sorrow that the life-song of the world first sounds in us divinely, like the song of a nightingale in the dark
Daß ein liebendes Volk in des Vaters Armen gesammelt,
Menschlichfreudig, wie sonst, und Ein Geist allen gemein sei.
Aber weh! es wandelt in Nacht, es wohnt, wie im Orkus,
Ohne Göttliches unser Geschlecht. Ans eigene Treiben
Sind sie geschmiedet allein und sich in der tosenden Werkstatt
Höret jeglicher nur und viel arbeiten die Wilden
Mit gewaltigem Arm, rastlos, doch immer und immer
Unfruchtbar, wie die Furien, bleibt die Mühe der Armen.
Bis erwacht vom ängstigen Traum, die Seele den Menschen
Aufgeht, jugendlichfroh, und der Liebe segnender Othem
Wieder, wie vormals, oft, bei Hellas blühenden Kindern,
Wehet in neuer Zeit und über freierer Stirne
Uns der Geist der Natur, der fernherwandelnde, wieder
Stilleweilend der Gott in goldnen Wolken erscheinet.
Go down, then, lovely sun, for but little they
Regarded you, nor holly one, knew your worth,
Since without toil you rose, and quiet,
Over a people for ever toiling.
To me, however, kindly you rise and set,
O Glorious light, and brightly my eyes respond,
For godly, silent reverence I
Learned when Diotima soothed my frenzy.
O how I listened, Heaven's own messenger,
To you, my teacher! Love! How to the golden day
These eyes transfused with thanks looked up from
Gazing at you. And at once more living
The brooks began to murmur, more lovingly
The blossoms of dark Earth breathed their scent at me
And through the silver clouds a smiling
Aether bowed down to bestow his blessing.