JOHANN WOLFGANG GOETHE (Germany, 1749 - 1832)

OH, HAPPY HE WHO STILL CAN HOPE IN OUR DAY,

from "Faust"

Oh, happy he who still can hope in our day
to breathe the truth while plunged in seas of error!
What we don't know is really what we need,
and what we know is of no use whatever!
But the radiance of this hour
must not be marred by gloomy thoughts.
Mark the shimmering huts in green surroundings,
basking in the evening sunlight's glow.
It fades and sinks away; the day is spent,
the sun moves on to nourish other life.
Oh, if I had wings to lift me from this earth,
to seek the sun and follow him!
Then I should see within the constant evening ray
the silent world beneath my feet,
the peaks illumined, and in every valley peace,
the silver brook flow into golden streams.
No savage peaks nor all the roaring gorges
could then impede my godlike course.
Even now the ocean and its sun-warmed bays
appear to my astonished eyes.
When it would seem the sun has faded,
a newborn urge awakes in me.
I hurry off to drink eternal light;
before me lies the day, behind the night,
the sky above me, and the seas below.
A lovely dream; meanwhile the sun has slipped away.
Alas, the spirit's wings will not be joined
so easily to heavier wings of flesh and blood.
Yet every man has inward longings
and sweeping, skyward aspirations
when up above, forlorn in azure space,
the lark sends out a lusty melody;
when over jagged mountains, soaring over pines,
the outstretched eagle draws his circles,
and high above the plains and oceans
the cranes press onward, homeward bound.