Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 286

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


  Lovingly blend into one — find the more excellent world.

  Chronological table of contents

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  THE SAGES AND THE PEOPLE.

  Epimenides.

  NOW, brethren! hasten to the grove!

  The eager people push and shove.

  From North, South, East and West their yearning

  For wisdom brings them, hither turning

  Their hurrying steps. ’Tis light they love,

  But not expensive is their learning;

  I beg you now your minds prepare

  To read the text as they demand it!

  The People.

  Ye men of riddles, we declare

  That you must teach us, full and fair,

  Not darkly — so we understand it:

  Say! is the world from everlasting?

  Anaxagoras.

  I have no doubt of it, for casting

  A backward glance, if e’er you came

  To time without it, ’twould seem a shame!

  The People.

  But will it end in smoke and flame?

  Anaximenes.

  Most likely! Yet it’s all the same!

  If God exists in deed and name,

  There’ll still be pleasant worlds in plenty.

  The People.

  What dost thou mean by Infinite?

  Parmenides.

  Why should’st thou vex thyself with it?

  Search thy own soul! If there is lacking

  Infinity in mind and wit,

  Take little thought for other’s backing!

  The People.

  But where and how is Thought evolv’d?

  Diogenes.

  Thou putt’st a riddle never solv’d;

  The thinker thinks from hat to shoe,

  And in a flash he gets the clue,

  Unto the Where, the How, the Best.

  The People.

  And does my body house a soul?

  Mimnermos.

  ‘Twere well to ask thy brothers,

  For, dost thou see, this life long guest,

  This civil creature with its rôle

  Of pleasing self, delighting others,

  Is call’d a soul, and I sustain it.

  The People.

  When Night is on, does sleep enchain it?

  Periander.

  It cannot slip its lasting bond;

  Thy body feels the power of sleep,

  Which comes upon it from beyond;

  The soul, too, feels the influence deep.

  The People.

  What dost thou mean by Spirit? speak!

  Kleoboulos.

  The thing call’d Spirit, I confess,

  Asks questions — never answers.

  The People.

  Now, tell me! what is happiness?

  Krates.

  ’Tis what the fearless urchin shows,

  Who, with his comrades — jolly dancers —

  With jingling pennies, gayly goes;

  Full well the pudding-place he knows —

  I mean, he knows the baker!

  The People.

  What proof of immortality?

  Aristippos.

  The best life in reality

  He leads who lives serene and meek —

  Builds firm and strong in perfect vows —

  And trusts all to his Maker!

  The People.

  Is wisdom or is folly best?

  Demokritos.

  That scarcely needs reflection,

  The wise in his own conceit,

  Is not begrudged when wise men meet.

  The People.

  Does chance rule all and mere deception?

  Epikouros.

  I take the old direction,

  Get all the good I can from chance,

  Enjoy deception’s fleeting glance;

  Their use and sport thou would’st prefer so.

  The People.

  Is freedom of the will a lie?

  Zeno.

  It seems as though it were so,

  So keep a good stiff upper lip,

  And if thou mak’st a final slip,

  Thou would’st preserve thy gravity.

  The People.

  Was I, a child, born in depravity?

  Pelagius.

  Thy question I had much preferred

  Not at this junction to have heard;

  ’Tis true thou hast inherited

  A grievous load unmerited.

  To ask the question was absurd!

  The People.

  Are we compelled to seek our best?

  Plato.

  If everybody were not blest,

  In ever taking good suggestions,

  Thou would’st not ask such questions.

  Make on thyself the first attempt,

  And, if thou canst know thyself,

  Let other people be exempt.

  The People.

  But everywhere rules greed for pelf!

  Epiktetos.

  Well! let the people have their gain,

  The farthings of the balance

  Thou must not grudge them; that is plain.

  The People.

  Now tell us how to use our talents,

  Ere we forever drift apart.

  The Sages.

  The law of wisdom take to heart!

  Avoid all questioners, my gallants!

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  Rhymed Distichs.

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  GOD, SOUL AND WORLD.

  WHO trusts in God

  Fears not His rod.

  This truth may be by all believ’d:

  Whom God deceives is well deceiv’d.

  How? when? and where? — No answer comes from high;

  Thou wait’st for the Because, and yet thou ask’st not Why?

  If the whole is ever to gladden thee,

  That whole in the smallest thing thou must see.

  Water its living strength first shows

  When obstacles its course oppose.

  Transparent appears the radiant air,

  Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear;

  At length they’ll meet with fiery power,

  And metal and stones on the earth will shower.

  Whate’er a living flame may surround,

  No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound.

  ’Tis now invisible, flies from earth,

  And hastens on high to the place of its birth.

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  DISTICHS.

  CHORDS are touch’d by Apollo, — the death-laden bow, too, he bendeth;

  While he the shepherdess charms, Python he lays in the dust.

  What is merciful censure? To make thy faults appear smaller?

  May be to veil them? No, no! O’er them to raise thee on nigh!

  Democratic food soon cloys on the multitude’s stomach;

  But I’ll wager, ere long, other thou’lt give them instead.

  What in France has pass’d by, the Germans continue to practise,

  For the proudest of men flatters the people and fawns.

  Who is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others,

  And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though ‘twere his own.

  Not in the morning alone, not only at midday he charmeth;

  Even at setting, the sun is still the same glorious planet.

  TIME mows the thorns and the roses;

  But the root fresh life-force ever discloses!

  ’Tis easier far a wreath to bind,

  Than a good owner for’t to find.

  A breach is every day

  By many a mortal storm’d;

  Let them fall in the gaps as they may,

  Yet a heap of dead is ne’er form’d.

  Wh
at harm has thy poor mirror done, alas?

  Look not so ugly, prithee, in the glass!

  God gave to mortals birth,

  In His own image too;

  Then came Himself to earth,

  A mortal kind and true.

  “NOW what is thy purpose and thy intention

  In kindling new fire in thy spirit?”

  My work men only shall mention

  When I no longer shall hear it.

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  West-Eastern Divan.

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  Moganni Nameh.

  Who the song would understand.

  Needs must seek the song’s own land.

  Who the minstrel understand,

  Needs must seek the minstrel’s land.

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  BOOK OF THE MINSTREL.

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  HEGIRA.

  NORTH and West and South are crumbling,

  Kingdoms tremble, thrones are tumbling;

  To the East fly from annoyance,

  Seeking patriarchal joyance,

  Where ‘mid love and wine and singing,

  Chiser’s Fount new life is bringing.

  There in calm and holy places

  Will I study primal races;

  Searching back to dim beginnings

  For the source of wisdom’s winnings;

  Wealth of language, lore of heaven,

  Undisturb’d by discord’s leaven.

  Children then show’d veneration,

  Scorn’d was outside obligation!

  Firmly grown in bone and marrow,

  Faith was strong though thought was narrow;

  And the word kept power unbroken,

  Just because the word was spoken.

  I will mix with shepherd races —

  Find enjoyment in oases,

  With long caravans will wander,

  Wealth on shawls and spices squander.

  Every path though rough or pretty

  Will explore from waste to city.

  Mountain footways rough and weary,

  Hafis, do thy songs make cheery;

  When the guide on muleback clinging

  Wakes the echoes with his singing;

  And the stars above are brighten’d,

  And the lurking brigand frighten’d.

  When I bathe or when I’m drinking,

  Hafis great, of thee I’m thinking;

  When her veil my sweetheart raises,

  And my cheek her fair hair grazes,

  Yea, the secret of the poet,

  E’en the houris long to know it.

  If you envy him this pleasure,

  Or would stint him in his measure,

  Know his poems, gently knocking,

  For admittance hover flocking,

  Round the gate of Eden never,

  Doubting of the life forever.

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  DISCORD.

  WHEN by the brook his strain

  Cupid is fluting,

  And on the neighb’ring plain

  Mavors disputing,

  There turns the ear ere long,

  Loving and tender,

  Yet to the noise the song

  Soon must surrender.

  Loud then the flute-notes glad

  Sound ‘mid war’s thunder;

  If I grow raving mad,

  Is it a wonder?

  Flutes sing and trumpets bray,

  Waxing yet stronger;

  If, then, my senses stray,

  Wonder no longer.

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  TALISMANS.

  GOD is of the East possess’d,

  God is ruler of the West;

  North and South alike, each land

  Rests within His gentle hand.

  He, the only righteous one,

  Wills that right to each be done.

  ‘Mongst His hundred titles, then,

  Highest praise be this! — Amen.

  Error seeketh to deceive me,

  Thou art able to retrieve me;

  Both in action and in song

  Keep my course from going wrong.

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  THE FOUR FAVORS.

  THAT Arabs through the realms of space

  May wander on, light-hearted,

  Great Allah hath, to all their race,

  Four favors meet imparted.

  The turban first — that ornament

  All regal crowns excelling;

  A light and ever-shifting tent,

  Wherein to make our dwelling;

  A sword, which, more than rocks and walls

  Doth shield us, brightly glist’ning;

  A song that profits and enthrals,

  For which the maids are list’ning.

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  SONG AND STRUCTURE.

  LET the Greek his plastic clay

  Mould in human fashion,

  While his own creation may

  Wake his glowing passion;

  But it is our joy to court

  Great Euphrates’ torrent,

  Here and there at will to sport

  In the watery current.

  Quench’d I thus my spirit’s flame,

  Songs had soon resounded;

  Water drawn by bards whose fame

  Pure is, may be rounded.

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  CREATION AND VIVIFICATION.

  OLD Adam was a clod of earth

  Which God a man created,

  Yet he, in spite of such a birth,

  Was unsophisticated!

  The Elohim blew down his nose

  The breath of life most pleasing;

  He now to something great arose: —

  He caught a fit of sneezing.

  Yet in his bones and limbs and head

  He still remain’d half earthy,

  Till Noah the bumper found, ’tis said,

  The right thing for the worthy.

  The clod as soon as he was wet

  Felt wings of inspiration,

  Just as the dough when it is set

  Swells up with fermentation.

  Thus Hafis, may thy lofty song,

  Thy glorious example

  Lead us with clinking cups along

  To our Creator’s temple.

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  Hafis Nameh.

  Spirit let us bridegroom call,

  And the word the bride;

  Known this wedding is to all

  Who have Hafis tried.

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  BOOK OF HAFIS.

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  THE NEW NAME.

  Poet.

  MAHOMET-SHEMS-ED-DIN, tell me

  Why thy noble people name thee

  Hafis?

  Hafis.

  Sir, I cannot blame thee;

  I will speak how it befell me:

  Since my memory never faltered,

  And with joy I kept unaltered

  All the Koran’s sacred verses,

  And amid my many mercies

  Never with the evil paltered

  That the faithful were offended,

  Who the seed-word of the prophet

  Treasure as it was intended:

  Therefore am I bearer of it.

  Po
et.

  Hafis, as I thus behold us,

  Is it well to stay anigh thee;

  For the thoughts of others mould us

  To resemble them; and I thee

  Must resemble wholly,

  Who have in my bosom minted

  Impress of our Scripture holy,

  As the Saviour’s face was printed

  On the wondrous napkin. Joyance

  Fills me, spite of all annoyance,

  Spite of hindrance, loss, negation,

  For I have Faith’s consolation.

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  THE GERMAN RETURNS THANKS.

  HOLY EBUSUUD, thou hast fathom’d

  All the holy things the poet covets!

  For it is indeed the thousand trifles

  Not within the sacred Law’s dominions

  Where his portion lies, and where with boldness,

  Joyous e’en in grief, he finds his duty.

  Serpent venom and the theriaca

  He must take without discrimination:

  Poison kills not, antidote is helpless,

  For true life consists in guileless action

  Tempered by the everlasting wisdom,

  Harming self but never harming others:

  Thus the aged poet hopes the houris

  To the joys of paradise will take him,

  As a youth with vision clarified: —

  Holy Ebusuud, thou hast reach’d it!

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  THE UNLIMITED.

  THAT thou canst never end doth make thee great,

  And that thou ne’er beginnest is thy fate.

  Thy song is changeful as yon starry frame,

  End and beginning evermore the same;

  And what the middle bringeth but contains

  What was at first, and what at last remains.

  Thou art of joy the true and minstrel-source,

  From thee pours wave on wave with ceaseless force.

  A mouth that’s aye prepar’d to kiss,

  A breast whence flows a loving song,

  A throat that finds no draught amiss,

  An open heart that knows no wrong.

  And what though all the world should sink!

  Hafis, with thee, alone with thee

  Will I contend! joy, misery,

  The portion of us twain shall be;

  Like thee to love, like thee to drink, —

  This be my pride, — this, life to me!

  Now, Song, with thine own fire be sung, —

  For thou art older, thou more young!

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  TO HAFIS.

  HAFIS, straight to equal thee,

  One would strive in vain;

  Though a ship with majesty

  Cleaves the foaming main,

  Feels its sails swell haughtily

 

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