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Ich komme vom Gebirge her,
Es dampft das Tal, es braust das Meer.
Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,
Und immer fragt der Seufzer: wo? immer wo?
Die Sonne dünkt mich hier so kalt,
Die Blüte welk, das Leben alt,
Und was sie reden, leerer Schall,
Ich bin ein Fremdling überall.
Wo bist du, mein geliebtes Land?
Gesucht, geahnt, und nie gekannt!
Das Land so hoffnungsgrün,
Das Land, wo meine Rosen blühn,
Wo meine Freunde wandelnd gehn,
Wo meine Toten auferstehn,
Das Land, das meine Sprache spricht,
O Land, wo bist du?
Ich wandle still, bin wenig froh,
Und immer fragt der Seufzer: wo?
Im Geisterhauch tönt’s mir zurück;
“Dort, wo du nicht bist, dort ist das Glück!” |
I come from the mountains,
The valley is steaming, the sea roaring.
I walk quietly, have little joy,
And always the sigh is asking: where? always where?
The sun seems so cold to me here,
The flower withered, life old,
And what they say is empty sound,
I am a stranger everywhere.
Where are you, my beloved land?
Looked for, sensed and never known!
The land so green with hope,
The land where my roses flower,
Where my friends go wandering,
Where my dead resurrect,
The land which speaks my language,
O land where are you?
I walk quietly, have little joy,
And always the sigh is asking: where?
A spirit breath returns the answer:
“There, where you are not, there is happiness!” |
The Wanderer
William Wordsworth (The Excursion bk.7 II)
"So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies,"
The grey-haired Wanderer pensively exclaimed,
"All that this world is proud of . From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,
Princes, and emperors, and the crowns and palms
Of all the mighty, withered and consumed!
Nor is power given to lowliest innocence
Long to protect her own. The man himself
Departs; and soon is spent the line of those
Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,
In heart or soul, in station or pursuit,
Did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks,
Fraternities and orders - heaping high
New wealth upon the burthen of the old,
And placing trust in privilege confirmed
And re-confirmed - are scoffed at with a smile
Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand
Of Desolation, aimed; to slow decline
These yield, and these to sudden overthrow :
Their virtue, service, happiness, and state
Expire; and nature’s pleasant robe of green
Humanity’s appointed shroud, enwraps
Their monuments and their memory.The vast Frame
Of social nature changes evermore
Her organs and her members, with decay
Restless, and restless generation, powers
And functions dying and produced at need, -
And by this law the mighty whole subsists:
With and ascent and progress in the main;
Yet, oh ! how disproportioned to the hopes
And expectations of self-flattering minds!" |
