e-book Lass‘ doch die alten Geschichten (German Edition)

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Im Durch die Vernetzung der a. Nur durch die gute Zusammenarbeit mit dem a. Graduate School April Andreas Speer Direktor und wissenschaftlicher Koordinator der a. Thomas Y. Seit , als a. Auch Rektor Prof. Thomas Levin von der Princeton University. In Form von kleinen Schallplatten wurden in jenen Jahrzehnten zahlreiche gesprochene www.

Research Lab seine Arbeit aufgenommen.

Dorte Kollo

Martin und Thiemo, als a. Juniorprofessoren leitet und beratet Ihr gemeinsam das Lab. Das betrifft nicht nur das Lab selbst. Unsere Themen und Diskussionen sollen auch in die a. Wie sieht das konkret aus? Wie formuliert Ihr Eure Zielsetzung? Martin Zillinger: Ich entdecke in a. Dieser Aufgabe versuche ich weniger mit einer Begriffsdefinition, sondern eher methodisch zu begegnen. Medium gibt es sowohl Gemeinsamkeiten als auch Unterschiede. Doch auch in historischer Hinsicht stellt sich die Frage: Wie transformiert sich die Suche nach Gewissheit in einer ganz und gar unsicheren Welt?

Worin bestehen die Unterschiede im Umgang mit Unsicherheit, zum Beispiel in Romanen, in Filmen oder auch in anderen Bereichen wie dem wissenschaftlichen Experimentieren? Das Mein Projekt hat zum Ziel, eine Geschichte der Intelligenz im deutsch-britischen Vergleich zu schreiben. Wir haben es immer schon mit Transformationen unterschiedlichster Art zu tun. Die Frage ist vielmehr, was der Begriff der Transformation in methodologischer Sicht zum Fundus der operativen Verfahren in den Geisteswissenschaften aktuell beitragen kann.

Dabei betrachten wir automatisch auch die Transformationsbewegungen, die dabei stattfinden. Indem wir aus unseren unterschiedlichen Perspektiven diskutieren, erleben wir diesen Prozess permanent selbst. Wir erfahren so unsere Forschung — im wahrsten Sinne. Interessant ist in diesem Zusammenhang auch unsere Arbeit mit den Teilnehmerinnen und Teilnehmern des a. Wie geht es in Zukunft weiter? Es kommen also immer wieder neue Perspektiven. Auch die Studierenden bringen hier einen breiten fachlichen Hintergrund mit.

Hierzu werden wir Fachleute einladen und gemeinsam mit interessierten Teilnehmerinnen und Teilnehmern diskutieren. Die Frage nach dem Menschen und seiner Praxis in den Wissenschaften. Das Besondere am a. Research Lab ist ja, dass gerade die Zusammenarbeit untereinander sehr stark fokussiert wird. Das habe ich in dieser Form zuvor nicht kennengelernt.


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Der Austausch steht hier wirklich ganz besonders stark im Vordergrund. Johannes Schick: Das Interessante dabei sind die Kontroversen, die wir in der Arbeit miteinander permanent erzeugen. Auf ganz produktive Weise entstehen dann Kontroversen, die auch auf das eigene Denken und die eigene Arbeitsweise transformierend wirken. Research Master Aiko Wolter Mit dem a. Research Master wird die a.

Graduate School in Kontakt zu treten. Auf diese Weise umfasst die Graduiertenschule nun neben dem Promotions- und dem PostdocProgramm auch die Masterausbildung und deckt damit alle Bereiche der Graduiertenausbildung ab. Programmkoordination: Prof. Ralph Jessen Historisches Instiut. Graduate School soll gezielt genutzt werden, um ein Dissertationsprojekt zu entwickeln und zu fokussieren.

Die rege Teilnahme der neuen Artistinnen und Artisten beim a. Jahrgang , Klasse 5. Und was geschieht, wenn Sprache einfach fehlt? Graduate School, die am Ellen Fricke Chemnitz , Prof. Frank Hentschel, Prof. Peter W. Marx und Prof. Auch wird die Reihe der a. Wir merken uns das Datum des Mensch und Hund Mensch und Hund leben seit etwa Und man kann sich mit Fug und Recht fragen: Wie funktioniert das eigentlich?

Verstehen Hunde menschliche Kommunikation? Ja, Nein oder ein bisschen? Was ist Verstehen? Untersuchungen ergaben, dass Hundehalter meinen, dass ihre Hunde etwa 30 Kommandos kennen — und etwa zehn jederzeit befolgen Pongracz et al. Dennoch wird sich bei den meisten etwas Unmut ausbreiten.

Versteht das Baby wirklich, was die Mutter gesagt hat? Versteht es der Hund? Wissenschaftler stehen vor der Herausforderung, Methoden zu entwickeln, mit denen man messen kann, ob Hunde menschliche Kommunikation verstehen. Was macht den Mensch zum Menschen? Ich denke, dass diese Frage in erster Line darum interessant ist, weil ihre Beantwortung uns zu verstehen hilft, was den Menschen zum Menschen macht. In den er Jahren wurde ein interessantes Experiment unternommen, um dieser Frage nachzugehen. Schlimmer noch, Donald beginnt Affenlaute zu produzieren und so wird das Experiment von den besorgten Eltern vorzeitig abgebrochen.

Moderne Forschung zeigt, dass die Unterschiede zwischen Mensch und Affe vor allem im sozialen Bereich liegen siehe Hermann et al. Da auch die menschliche Kommunikation kooperativ ist, nimmt es nicht Wunder, dass Affen einige Schwierigkeiten damit haben. Savage-Rumbaugh et al. Zum Beispiel haben Kaminski et al. Nachdem die Versuchsleiterin in einem der Becher Futter versteckt hatte, schaute sie in einer Bedingung den Hund an und zeigte danach mit einem angewinkelten Arm auf einen der beiden Becher.

In einer zweiten Bedingung machte sie die gleiche Geste, schaute den Hund jedoch nicht an. In letzterer Situation haben die Hunde nicht auf die Zeigegeste reagiert. Wie wichtig die situative Relevanz der Zeigegeste ist, zeigt sich auch in einer anderen Studie von Scheider et al. In einer Bedingung fand der Hund ein Leckerli und in einer zweiten Bedingung gab es nichts zu finden. Es zeigte sich, dass nur jene Hunde, die zuvor Futter gefunden hatten, sich in die angezeigte Richtung bewegten. Wissenschaftler haben in den letzten Jahren begonnen, zu untersuchen, ob das Sprachverstehen von Hunden mehr ist als reine Dressur, reine Reiz-Reaktion oder reines Belohnungslernen.

Der erste derart sprachbegabte Hund, der auch international bekannt wurde, war der Border Collie Rico. Im Gegenteil: Sie schienen davon auszugehen, dass die Versuchsleiterin ihnen mit der Zeigegeste helfen will, das benannte Objekt in der angezeigten Richtung zu finden. Die Untersuchungen von Pilley und Reid und Ramos und Ades deuten auf das Vorhandensein von entsprechenden Grundvoraussetzungen.

Einige Wissenschaftler vertreten die Ansicht, dass Hunde die menschliche Zeigegeste so gut verstehen, weil sie im Laufe ihres Lebens lernen, dass die menschliche Hand wichtig ist. In den er Jahren wurde dort angefangen, Fuchswelpen danach zu selektieren, ob sie freundlich oder besonders aggressiv sind.

Cues to food location that domestic dogs Canis familiaris of different ages do and do not use. Animal Cognition, 3 2 , — Primate vocalization, gesture and the evolution of human language. Effect of reinforcement, reinforcer omission and extinction on a communicative response in domestic dogs Canis familiaris. Behavioural Processes, 78 3 , — Kaminski, J. Riedel, J. Call, J. Making inferences about the location of hidden food: Social dog, Causal ape. Breed differences in dogs sensitivity to human points: A meta-analysis. Behavioural Processes, 81 3 , — Communication between domestic dogs Canis familiaris and humans: Dogs are good learners.

The effect of development and individual differences in pointing comprehension of dogs. Animal Cognition, 12 3 , — Animal Cognition. DOI: Young children follow pointing over words in interpreting acts of reference. Developmental Science, 13, The Domestication of Social Cognition in Dogs. Science, , — Human-like social skills in dogs? Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 9 9 , — Current Biology, 15 3 , — Behavioural Processes, 85 1 , 77— Humans have evolved specialized skills of social cognition: the cultural intelligence hypothesis. Science, , How dogs know when communication is intended for them.

Developmental Science, 15 2 , — Domestic goats, Capra hircus, follow gaze direction and use social cues in an object choice task. Animal Behaviour, 69 1 , 11— Science, Infant chimpanzee and human child: a classic comparative study of ape emotions and intelligence. Use of human-given cues by domestic dogs Canis familiaris and horses Equus caballus. Animal Cognition, 3 1 , 13— Animal Cognition, 9 2 , 81— A simple reason for a big difference: Wolves do not look back at humans, but dogs do.

On the hunt for the gene of perspective taking: pitfalls in methodology. A comparative study of the use of visual communicative signals in interactions between dogs Canis familiaris and humans and cats Felis catus and humans. Journal of Comparative Psychology, , — Border collie comprehends object names as verbal referents.

Behavioural Processes, 86 2 , — A case of social understanding. Dornhaus, Hrsg. The early ontogeny of human—dog communication. Animal Behaviour, 75 3 , — They call it like they see it: spontaneous naming and attention to shape. Developmental Science, 8 2 , — Language Comprehension in Ape and Child. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 19, Genetika, 40 6 , — Interaction Studies, 10 2 , — Mal in Groningen stattfand. Ein Erfahrungsbericht. Der Harmoniecomplex Spannend fand ich die teilweise kuriosen Konstellationen aus Wissenschaftlern aller Qualifikationsstufen, die sich zu einzelnen Projekten zusammengefunden hatten — und harmonische Forschergruppen bildeten.

Das exotische Friesland In Kooperation u. Eine klare Perspektivfrage also Das Balletje-Balletje-Experiment Paula Niemeier, a. Klasse 5 The early 18th century saw a significant expansion of translations published in German speaking territories, which soon accounted for approximately one third of the titles available on the book market.

The reasons for this development were manifold. Increasing literacy among the population resulted in a growing book demand which could no longer be satisfied by original German texts alone [1]. The increase in the number of available translations also reflected the broader impact of the Enlightenment movement upon the book market and its broader attempt to spread knowledge hitherto unavailable to those who could not read Latin or other European languages [2].

Finally, political authorities started to actively commission translations for political reasons, as they sought to spread knowledge hitherto unavailable to the population of their territories. Disseminating translations, they began to realise, was a useful and comparatively inexpensive tool to educate and instil a set of moral values among their subordinates, make their states economically and technologically more efficient, and thereby stabilize their regimes [3]. By the early 18th century, however, translating was still a highly parochial profession.

The majority of the translators came from the educated middle classes and were financially independent amateurs, who translated texts mostly for leisure or as a purely intellectual exercise [4]. Many worked on one or two texts only in their lifetime and could often boast few other linguistic qualifications than that of being bilingual emigrants [5]. There were, to be sure, a number of professional translators who were paid for translating, but they usually had to complement this source of income with additional employment [6].

It is therefore unsurprising that the profession, amateurish and materially unrewarding as it was, enjoyed only a very low social prestige and their names were regularly omitted in the respective publications [7]. Professionalization followed commercial success. Thus, the increasing number of transwww. While many of the 18th century German translators appear to have been exclusively concerned with their presumably commonsensical job of transferring a text from one language into another, a small number of practitioners and philologists started to reflect in greater depth about the theoretical implications of what they were actually doing.

The following article analyses the key German theoretical literature on translation produced during the long 18th century. Through a birds-eye perspective, it traces the development of this professional discourse and seeks to dissect different phases in German translation theory. It argues that the late 18th century witnessed a crucial shift in translation theory from a universalist understanding of language which neglected the locality and temporality of texts to an explicit emphasis upon the influence of cultural factors upon languages. Until the 18th century, German translators disposed of almost no theoretical texts which they could consult for guidance [8].

After the publication of his pioneering work, two further theoretical texts appeared in short succession trying to fill the gap in the professional translation literature. The purpose of translations was one of their main preoccupations. Significantly, they did not see the translation of foreign texts as a service towards the German language community.

In his analysis, translation was not about mastering a foreign language, but about developing a more refined German [12]. Venzky, for example, believed that translations also served the greater goal of learning how languages worked in general, including foreign languages [14]. What the three authors had in common, however, was that they regarded translations essentially as useful practical linguistic exercises, but never explicitly as tools for spreading foreign Thus, they considered any text written in an ancient or modern language to be worthy of translation as long as it met the main, but highly subjective criteria of possessing a high quality, because only in that case would its translation make sense as a literary exercise.

Exotic texts posed a particularly welcome challenge for the dedicated philologist. The implementation of this general aim could, however, be reached by different methods. Gottsched contended that a translation should not be conducted word by word, but that it should rather convey the correct meaning of each individual sentence. Translators had to use expressions common in their own language and concentrate on expressing the meaning, and not necessarily the literal translation of a foreign term.

A text should also be translated in such a way that the distinctive literary style of the original author would not be lost. The overall readability was given priority, which implied that the structure and length of sentences could be changed according to the necessities of the translator [18]. As such, he argued that a translator should make improvements, additions, and comments to the original whenever he saw the need to do so [19].

For him, it was equally important to convey the emotional effect of the original upon the reader. He regarded www. Gottsched, Johann C. Leipzig, , Titelblatt. Signatur: L. The central idea behind this body of theory was that all languages worked in a similar way and that therefore expressing a specific thought was possible in any given language [25].

Thus, in the revealing words of Breitinger, translations were feasible because the things, which humans treat in their thoughts, are the same and equal all over the world; because the truth, which they seek to find through this preoccupation, is only of one kind; and because the possibilities of the human mind are limited in the same manner; thus there must be a necessary sameness among the ideas of humans […] [26]. Thus, the manifold epistemological problems involved in trying to transfer ideas from one language into another were neither mentioned nor examined in these texts.

As the above quotation suggests, philologists believed in the sameness of different languages which implied an automatic similitude in ways of thinking throughout different language communities. This universalism did not mean that the theorists entirely disregarded the importance of cultural factors. Nor did they reflect in greater detail about the deeper intricacies of translating textual artefacts produced by one culture into the language of another. Such an interpretation of language had crucial implications for the practice of translation. Herder maintained that sentence structure, conjunctions, and the grammatical gender of words varied strongly between different languages and thus had a crucial impact on the way thoughts were organised and expressed.

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No reader, no matter how well acquainted with the society that had produced a text, was able to liberate themselves from their own language and culture. Hoping to fully understand an original text was, therefore, nothing more than an illusion. Herder was thus among the first to recognise that texts were intrinsically tied to the specific place and period in which they had been produced, and that this made the act of translation always problematic [30]. And it was salted and cooked, and the wicked woman ate it up, thinking that there was an end of Snow-white.

Now, when the poor child found herself quite alone in the wild woods, she felt full of terror, even of the very leaves on the trees, and she did not know what to do for fright. Then she began to run over the sharp stones and through the thorn bushes, and the wild beasts after her, but they did her no harm. She ran as long as her feet would carry her; and when the evening drew near she came to a little house, and she went inside to rest.

Everything there was very small, but as pretty and clean as possible. There stood the little table ready laid, and covered with a white cloth, and seven little plates, and seven knives and forks, and drinking-cups. By the wall stood seven little beds, side by side, covered with clean white quilts. Snow-white, being very hungry and thirsty, ate from each plate a little porridge and bread, and drank out of each little cup a drop of wine, so as not to finish up one portion alone.

After that she felt so tired that she lay down on one of the beds, but it did not seem to suit her; one was too long, another too short, but at last the seventh was quite right; and so she lay down upon it, committed herself to heaven, and fell asleep. When it was quite dark, the masters of the house came home. They were seven dwarfs, whose occupation was to dig underground among the mountains. When they had lighted their seven candles, and it was quite light in the little house, they saw that some one must have been in, as everything was not in the same order in which they left it.

The first said, "Who has been sitting in my little chair? Then he told the others, who came running up, crying out in their astonishment, and holding up their seven little candles to throw a light upon Snow-white. O gracious! And the seventh dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour at a time with each, until the night had passed. When it was morning, and Snow-white awoke and saw the seven dwarfs, she was very frightened; but they seemed quite friendly, and asked her what her name was, and she told them; and then they asked how she came to be in their house.

And she related to them how her step-mother had wished her to be put to death, and how the huntsman had spared her life, and how she had run the whole day long, until at last she had found their little house. Then the dwarfs said, "If you will keep our house for us, and cook, and wash, and make the beds, and sew and knit, and keep everything tidy and clean, you may stay with us, and you shall lack nothing.

In the morning the dwarfs went to the mountain to dig for gold; in the evening they came home, and their supper had to be ready for them. All the day long the maiden was left alone, and the good little dwarfs warned her, saying, "Beware of your step-mother, she will soon know you are here.


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Let no one into the house. And she thought and thought how she could manage to make an end of her, for as long as she was not the fairest in the land, envy left her no rest. At last she thought of a plan; she painted her face and dressed herself like an old pedlar woman, so that no one would have known her. In this disguise she went across the seven mountains, until she came to the house of the seven little dwarfs, and she knocked at the door and cried, "Fine wares to sell! Not long after that, towards evening, the seven dwarfs came home, and were terrified to see their dear Snow-white lying on the ground, without life or motion; they raised her up, and when they saw how tightly she was laced they cut the lace in two; then she began to draw breath, and little by little she returned to life.

When the dwarfs heard what had happened they said, "The old pedlar woman was no other than the wicked queen; you must beware of letting any one in when we are not here! Then she dressed herself up to look like another different sort of old woman. So she went across the seven mountains and came to the house of the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door and cried, "Good wares to sell! It pleased the poor child so much that she was tempted to open the door; and when the bargain was made the old woman said, "Now, for once your hair shall be properly combed.

By good luck it was now near evening, and the seven little dwarfs came home. Mocking the Greek land and its scattered little islands. For they seemed a joke to the lord and virtually a mirage— That sensitive people, armed with the intellect of gods! He speaks a word lightly, and fast as a flaming torrent When it pours its terror down the slopes of exploding Etna, Buries cities and blooming gardens in its purple flood, Until the burning stream is cooled in the sacred sea.

So the King ventures now, burning, destroying cities, And his splendid forces plunge in tumult from Ecbatan. But on the shores of Salamis, O day, on the shores of Salamis, The women of Athens, the virgins, stand waiting for the end. And the mothers stand rocking their saved young sons in their arms. And out of the depths, as they listen, the voice of the sea- god resounds. Prophesying victory, and the gods look down from heaven. Weighing and judging, for there on the quaking shores. Like a slowly moving tempest, there on the foaming waters, The battle has swayed since dawn, and noon is burning already Over the heads of the warriors, unnoticed in their rage.

But now the men of the people, those descendants of he- roes, govern Clearer eyes, they whom the gods love think of their Predestined happiness, the children of Athens do not Restrain their genius now, their death-despising gift. For, like a desert beast, with boihng blood, which once More rises, transformed and equal to a greater force, Startling the himter, now in the middle of disaster, As weapons flash, the weary spirit rises strong Once more, rewound with savage force at the call of the leaders. And the battle grows more fiery; like pairs of wrestlers Ship seizes ship, the rudder reels in the sea.

The decks break under the warriors, and ships and sailors sink. He threatens and pleads and exults and sends fast mes- sengers; But he sends in vain, for none returns to him with hope. Blood-soaked messengers, slain soldiers, shattered ships That avenger, the thundering wave, flings at him number- less Before his throne, where he sits glumly on the quaking shore Watching the flight; then, pulled away by his fleeing troop. He runs, for the god drives him and drives his routed squadron Over the sea, the god who, scorning vain jewelry, Struck, at last, and reached the weakling in imposing armor.

Mingling joyously, the shining band rushes down To the deserted valley, much like an aged mother When, after years have passed, a child thought lost Returns again to her bosom, alive, a grown young man. But her soul is clouded with grief and joy comes too late to her. Wearied by hoping, and she barely understands What her loving son says to her in his gratitude; So seems the earth of their homeland to the returning band. But they ask in vain for their groves, these pious Athenians, And the friendly door no longer welcomes the victor As it once received the wanderer when, joyously.

He returned from the islands, and the sacred citadel Of Mother Athena rose, far-shining, over his yearning head. And soon the husband seeks and finds the place of his own Home under the ruins; his wife weeps, with her arms Around his neck, remembering the loved place where they slept; The children ask where the table is at which they sat In lovely row, watched over by their fathers, the smihng gods of the home.

The people raise tents, old neighbors are reunited now, And near the dwelling place of their reviving hearts They lay out airy houses for themselves on the hills. So they live now, for a while, like their free ancestors. They who knew their strength and believed in the coming day And moved from mountain to mountain like wandering birds, with song, Lords of the awesome forests and far-wandering streams. And again the constant Mother Earth receives her noble Folk, as before, and under sacred, beneficent heaven They softly sleep as the young winds blow around them, Mildly as before, and the sound of iHssus rises Through the plane trees, and, foretelhng new and better Days, inspiring greater deeds, the waves of the sea-god Roar by night from afar, send happy dreams to the loved ones.

And golden flowers bud and bloom again, at last, In the trodden fields; the olive trees are green. Now tended by pious hands; and on the plains of Colonus The Athenian horses graze again, peacefully. Look I The forest serves the creator, and Pentelicus, Like other neighboring mountains, gives him marble and ore; Alive, like himself, and happy and great, his work springs from His hands, and, like the sun, it succeeds for him easily.

Fountains rise in the air, and over the hills, in clean And guided courses, a spring leaps into glittering basins; And around them shines, like celebrating heroes At the conmion cup, a row of dwellings; the resplendent Prytaneum rises high; the gymnasiums are open; The temples of the gods ascend, and that of Zeus, A bold and sacred design, climbs through the air toward the gods From its happy grove; and there are many heavenlike halls!

For you. Mother Athena, your glorious hill grew high And prouder out of its sorrow, and it blossomed for many years, And to you, O god of the sea, your loved ones, gathered in joy. Often sang thanks from the headland where the laurel grows. Will my eyes never see them? Ah, on the thousand Paths of the green earth the ardent searcher will never find Your godhke forms, and was it for this I learned your speech.

The saga of your past, that my always mourning soul Should rush down blindly to your shades before its time? Where your sacred hill covers its lonely head with clouds, To Parnassus will I go, and when, in the dark of the oaks. The glimmering spring of Kastalia meets me, wandering, I will pour from a blossom-scented cup, there on the rich. Springing green, water mixed with tears, and with it, all you sleepers, I shall make a death oflFering.

There in the quiet valley, near Tempers overhanging rocks, 1 will Hve with you, and there, O glorious names, I will call you at night, and when you storm in anger Because a plow has profaned your graves, I will atone With the voice of the heart and with pious song, O holy shades. Until my soul is wholly accustomed to Hfe with you. Then will your acolyte ask much of you, O dead. And of you, the living, as well, you high powers of the skyi When you pass by carrying your years over the ruins, You in undeviating course, for often this labyrinth Under the stars dismays me, like chill winds at the bosom.

So that I search for counsel, and no longer do The prophetic groves of Dodona speak comfort to those in need. And dumb is the Delphic god, and lonely and empty lie The paths where once, led lightly by his hopes, A questioner could chmb to the seat of the honest seer. But there is light on high, it speaks to mankind even today, Full of bright meanings, and the voice of the great thun- derer Calls: Do you think of me?

And the sorrowful waves of the sea-god Resound: Do you never think of me as before? For the gods rest happily in feeling hearts, and today, As always, the inspiring powers gladly guide A striving man, and over the hills of the homeland The encompassing atmosphere rests and rules and stays So that a loving people, gathered in its father's arms. May be humanly happy again and possess a spirit in com- mon. Men are bound to their own tasks Alone, and in the roaring workshop each can hear Only himself.

They work hke savages, steadily. With powerful, restless arms, but always and always The labor of the fools is sterile, like the Furies. So it will be until, awakened from anxious dreams, The souls of men arise, youthfully glad, and the blessed Breath of love blows in a newer time, as it often did For the blossoming children of Hellas, and over freer brows The spirit of nature, the far-wandering, shines for us again In silent, hngering divinity from golden clouds. Ah, do you linger still?

And must God-created men Live always, O day, as if they were in the depths of the earth, All lonely there below, while ever-living spring Dawns unsung over the heads of the sleepers? Not any longerl Already I hear, in the distance, A festive choral song on the green hill and its echo in the grove, Where the breasts of the young lift happily and where the souls of the people Quietly join in a freer song for the honor of The god to whom the heights and the valleys are sacred; For where a youthful, growing stream runs gaily on Under the flowers of the land, and where on sunny plains The rich grain and the orchard ripen, there, in festival.

Even the pious wear crowns, and on the hill of the city A heavenly hall of joy, seemingly man-made, shines. For life is now full of godlike sensibility. And everywhere, O Nature, you appear again As perfection to your children, and as from mountain springs Your blessings flow into the waking soul of the people. Ah, then, O joys of Athens, O great achievements in Sparta, O precious springtime in Greece, when our holy harvest comes, When it ripens, O glorious spirits of all the ancient world, Come back and see that the year's perfection is near!

Then our festival will honor you, long-gone days! Conceal the griever From peering day! And crown with eternal leaf, you groves Of laurel, the hill of your dead ones there at Marathon, Where the youths died in victory. Ah, there on the fields of Chaeronea, Where the last Athenians ran away with their weapons. But you, O immortal sea-god, if the song of the Greeks No longer rises from the waves to please you, as before. Still sound for me often in my soul, that over your waters The fearless, lively spirit, like a swimmer, may move In freshness and strength and understand the speech of the gods.

Change and becoming, and if this destructive, raging time Should seize my head too firmly and the needs and errors Of mortal men should rock my life with blows. Let me remember then the silence of your depths. Bliiht Jonien, ist es die Zeit? Deiner Inseln ist noch, der bliihenden, keine verloren. Alle leben sie noch, die Heroenmiitter, die Inseln, Bliihend von Jahr zu Jahr, und wenn zu Zeiten, vom Abgrund Losgelassen, die Flamme der Nacht, das untre Gewitter, Eine der Holden egriff und die Sterbende dir in den Schoos sank, Gottlicher, du, du dauertest aus, denn iiber den dunkeln Tiefen ist manches schon dir auf und untergegangen.

Auch die Himmhschen, sie, die Krafte der Hohe, die stillen. Wenn die allverklarende dann, die Sonne des Tages, Sie, des Orients Kind, die Wunderthatige, da ist, Dann die Lebenden all' im goldenen Traume beginnen, Den die Dichtende stets des Morgens ihnen bereitet, Dir, dem trauern- den Gott, dir sendet sie froheren Zauber, Und ihr eigen freund- liches Licht ist selber so schon nicht, Denn das Liebeszeichen, der Kranz, den immer, wie vormals Deiner gedenk, doch sie um die graue Loke dir windet.

Dann sendest du iiber das Land sie, Dass am heissen Gestad die gewittertrun- kenen Walder Rauschen und woogen mit dir, dass bald, dem wandernden Sohn gleich, Wenn der Vater ihn ruft, mit den tausend Bachen Maander Seinen Irren enteilt und aus der Ebne Kayster Dir entgegenfrohlokt, und der Erstgeborne, der Alte, Der zu lange sich barg, dein majestatischer Nil izt Hochher- schreitend aus fernem Gebirg, wie im Klange der Waffen, Sieg- reich kommt, und die offenen Arme der Sehnende reichet. Dennoch einsam diinkest du dir; in schweigender Nacht hort Deine Weheklage der Fels, und ofters entflieht dir Ziirnend von SterbHchen weg die gefliigelte Wooge zum Himmel.

Sage, wo ist Athen? Stiegen dort die Saulen empor und leuchteten dort nicht Sonst vom Dache der Burg herab die Cot- ter gestalten?. I Rauschte dort die Stimme des volks, die stiirmisch- bewegte, Aus der Agora nicht her, und eilten aus freudigen Pforten Dort die Gassen dir nicht zu geseegnetem Haf en herun- ter? Leicht aus spricht er das Wort, und schnell, wie der flammende Bergquell, Wenn er furchtbar umher vom gahrenden Atna gegossen, Stadte begrabt in der purpurnen Fluth und bliihende Garten, Bis der brennende Strom im heiligen Meere sich kiihlet, So mit dem Konige nun, versengend, stadteverwiistend, Stiirzt von Ekbatana daher sein prachtig Getiimmel; Wehl und Athene, die herrliche, fallt; wohl schauen und ringen Vom Gebirg, wo das Wild ihr Geschrei hort, fliehende Greise Nach den Wohnungen dort zuriik und den rau- chenden Tempeln; Aber es wekt der Sohne Gebet die heilige Asche I Nun nicht mehr, im Tal ist der Tod, und die Wolke des Brandes Schwindet am Himmel dahin, und weiter im Lande zu emdten, Zieht, vom Frevel erhizt, mit der Beute der Perse voriiber.

Blutige Boten, Erschlagne des Heers, und berstende Schiffe Wirft die Racherin ihm zahllos, die donnemde Wooge, Vor den Thron, wo er sizt am bebenden Ufer, der Arme, Schauend die Flucht, und fort in die fliehende Menge gerissen, Eilt er, ihn treibt der Gott, es treibt sein irrend Geschwader tJber die Fluthen der Gott, der spottend sein eitel Geschmeid ihm Endlich zerschlug und den Schwachen erreicht' in der drohenden Riistung. Aber liebend zuriik zum einsamharrenden Strome Kommt der Athener Volk und von den Bergen der Heimath Woogen, freu- dig gemischt, die glanzenden Schaaren herunter Ins verlassene Thai, achi gleich der gealterten Mutter, Wenn nach Jahren das Kind, das verlorengeachtete, wieder Lebend ihr an den Busen kehrt, ein erwachsener Jiingling, Aber im Gram ist ihr die Seele gewelkt und die Freude Kommt der hoffnungsmiiden zu spat und miihsam vemimmt sie, Was der liebende Sohn in seinem Danke geredet; So erscheint den Kommenden dort der Boden der Heimath.

Denn es fragen umsonst nach ihren Hainen die Frommen, Und die Sieger empf angt die freundliche Pforte nicht wieder, Wie den Wanderer sonst sie empfieng, wenn er froh von den Inseln Wiederhekrt' und die seelige Burg der Mutter Athene I t ber sehnendem Haupt ihm fernherglanzend heraufgieng. Aber wohl sind ihnen bekannt die verodeten Gassen Und die trauemden Garten umher und auf der Agora, Wo des Portikus Saulen gestiirzt imd die gottlichen Bilder Liegen, da reicht, in der Seele bewegt, und der Treue sich freuend, Jezt das liebende Volk zum Bunde die Hande sich wieder.

Aber Gezelte bauet das Volk, es schliessen die alten Nachbarn wieder sich an, und nach des Herzens Gewohnheit Ordnen die luftigen Wohnungen sich umher an den Hiigeln. Schon auch sprossen und bliihn die Blumen malig, die goldnen, Auf zertre- tenem Feld, von frommen Handen gewartet, Griinet der Olbaum auf, und auf Kolonos Gefilden Nahren friedlich, wie sonst, die Athenischen Rosse sich wieder. Siehl und dem Schaf- fenden dient der Wald, ihm reicht mit den andern Bergen nahe zur Hand der Pentele Marmor und Erze; Aber lebend, wie er, und froh und herrlich entquillt es Seinen Handen, und leicht, wie der Sonne, gedeiht das Geschafft ihm.

Brunnen steigen empor und iiber die Hiigel in reinen Bahnen gelenkt, ereilt der Quell das glanzende Beken; Und umher an ihnen erglanzt, gleich festhchen Helden Am gemeinsamen Kelch, die Reihe der Wohn- ungen, hoch ragt Der Prytanen Gemach, es stehn Gymnasien offen, I Gottertempel entstehn, ein heihgkiihner Gedanke, Steigt, Unsterblichen nah, das Olympion auf in den Ather Aus dem seeligen Hain; noch manche der himmlischen HallenI Mutter Athene, dir auch, dir wuchs dein herrlicher Hiigel Stolzer aus der Trauer empor und bliihte noch lange, Gott der Woogen und dir, und deine Liebhnge sangen Frohversammelt noch oft am Vorgebirge den Dank dir.

O die Kinder des Gliiks, die frommen I wandeln sie fern nun Bei den Vatem daheim, und der Schicksalstage vergessen, Drii- ben am Lethestrom, und bringt kein Sehnen sie wieder? Sieht mein Auge sie nie? Dort im schweigenden Thai, an Tempes hangenden Felsen, Will ich wohnen, mit euch, dort oft, ihr herrlichen Nahmen! Her euch rufen, bei Nacht, und wenn ihr ziirnend escheinet, Weil der Pflug die Graber entweiht, mit der Stimme des Herzens Will ich, mit frommen Gesang, euch siihnen, heilige SchattenI Bis, zu leben mit euch, sich ganz die Seele gewohnet. Fragen wird der Geweihtere dann euch manches, ihr TodtenI Euch, ihr Le- benden auch, ihr hohen Krafte des Himmelsl Wenn ihr iiber dem Schutt mit euren Jahren vorbeigeht, Ihr in der sicheren BahnI denn oft ergreiffet das Irrsaal Unter den Sternen mir, wie schaurige Liifte, den Busen, Dass ich spahe nach Rath, und lang schon reden sie nimmer Trost den Bediirftigen zu, die prophe- tischen Haine Dodonas, Stumm ist der delphische Gott, und einsam liegen und ode Langst die Pfade, wo einst, von Hoff- nungen leise geleitet, Fragend der Mann zur Stadt des redlichen Sehers herauf stieg.

Aber droben das Licht, es spricht noch heute zu Menschen, Schoner Deutungen voll und des grossen Don- nerers Stimme, Ruft es: denket ihr mein? Denn es ruhn die Himmlischen gem am fiihlenden Herzen, Immer, wie sonst, geleiten sie noch, die begeistemden Krafte, Gerne den strebenden Mann, und iiber den Bergen der Heimath Ruht und waltet und lebt allgegenwartig der Ather, I Dass ein liebendes Volk, in des Vaters Armen gesammelt, Menschlich freudig, wie sonst, und Ein Geist alien gemein sei.

Don Giovanni

Ans eigene Treiben Sind sie ge- schmiedet allein, und sich in der tosenden Werkstatt Horet jeglicher nur und viel arbeiten die Wilden Mit gewaltigem Arm, rastlos, doch immer und immer Unfruchtbar, wie die Furien, bleibt die Miihe der Armen. Achl und sau- mest du noch? Denn vol! Dann, dann, o ihr Freuden Athens!

Hin nach Hellas schaue das Volk, und weinend und dankend Sanftige sich in Erinnerungen der stolze Triimiphtag. Aber bliihet indess, bis unsre Friichte beginnen, Bliiht, ihr Garten Joniens! Aber du, unsterblich, wenn auch der Grie- chengesang schon Dich nicht feiert, wie sonst, aus deinen Woogen, o Meergott! Tone mir in die Seele noch oft, dass iiber den Wassem Furchtlosrege der Geist, dem Schwimmer gleich, in der Starken Frischem Gliike sich iib', und die Gottersprache, das Wechseln Und das Werden versteh', und wenn die reissende Zeit mir Zu gewaltig das Haupt ergreifft und die Noth und das Irrsaal Unter Sterblichen mir mein sterblich Leben erschiittert, Lass der Stille mich dann in deiner Tiefe gedenken.

Cold the Walls stand And wordless, in the wind The weathercocks are rattling. And all around, from sanctum to sanctum. Runs the refreshing, the now-melodious stream, Till the house and its cold blue shadows. And a marveling seized The souls of the smitten and night Was over the eyes of the best. For man can do much; he compels with his art The flood and the rock and the fury of fire; Man is puffed up and heeds not The sword, but many a mighty one Lies there struck down by the gods, and almost Resembles the hunted— which, Urged by sweet youth.

Roams unrestingly over the mountains and feels Its strength in the noonday heat. But when holy Twilight descends with the dancing zephyrs, and. With the cooler ray, the spirit of joy Comes to the soulful earth, then it succumbs. Unaccustomed to beauty, and slimibers in wakeful sleep Before the approach of the stars. So we. For with many The hght faded out of their eyes at the sight of the friendly, The god-sent gifts from Ionia, From burning Arabia; but never Once did the soul of those sleepers Rejoice at the lovable teaching, the lordly psalms, though a few Watched.

And often they journeyed Contented among you, you dwellers in beautiful cities. Sat at the contests, the games where the hero invisibly. Secretly sat as of old with the poets. Watching the wrestlers and smilingly praising, Himself full of praise, the gravely indolent children. O what a ceaseless loving it was and still is! For we still, though divided, think of each other. Dwellers upon the glorious isthmus. But if you And this must be said , if you ancients Spoke not the Word, whence should it come?

So we name you in all your Holy necessity, Naturel from whom, as though stepping Fresh from the bath. The limbs of the god-bom appear. Yet almost we live like the orphans. All is as it was, perhaps— only that tenderness Comes not again, though young lovers, Wistful of childhood, are strangers no more in the house. Threefold they live like the first Sons of the morning. And faith was not given Vainly into our hearts; Not us, but you also it safeguards, you Children of destiny, truly, and there Where the sanctities are, the arms of the Word Which you left for us fumblers and gropers at your de- parture.

There we shall find you, good spirits; and often. When the holy vapor swirls round us, We marvel and know not how to unriddle it. You spice our breath with your nectar And then we exult or more often we fall Darkly to brooding— for he whom you love overmuch Rnoweth no rest until he be one of you. Therefore, good spirits, encircle me hghtly, Let me remain, for much still remains to be sung. Thus, too, with all things. So auch wir. Denn manchen erlosch Das Augenlicht schon vor den gottlichgesendeten Gaben, Den freundlichen, die aus lonien uns, Auch aus Arabia kamen, und froh ward Der teuern Lehr und auch der holden Gesange I Die Seele jemer Entschlafenen nie, Doch einige wachten.

Und sie wandelten oft Zufrieden unter euch, ihr Biirger schoner Stadte, I Beim Kampfspiel, wo sonst unsichtbar der Heros Ge- heim bei Dichtern sass, die Ringer schaut' und lachelnd Pries, der gepriesene, die miissigernsten Kinder. Ein unaufhorlich Lie- ben wars und ists. Die nihn nun. Aber wenn ihr, Und dies ist zu sagen, Ihr Alten all, nicht sagtet, woher Wir nennen dich: heiliggenotiget, nennen, Naturl dich wir, und neu, wie dem Bad entsteigt Dir alles Gottlichgeborne. Zwar gehn wir fast, wie die Waisen; Wohl ists, wie sonst, nur jene Pf lege nicht wieder; Doch Jiinglinge, der Kindheit gedenk, Im Hause sind auch diese nicht fremde.

Sie leben dreifach, eben wie auch Die ersten Sohne des Himmels. Und nicht umsonst ward uns In die Seele die Treue gegeben. Nicht uns, auch Eures bewahrt sie, [ Und bei den Heiligtiimern, den Waffen des Worts, I Die scheidend ihr den Ungeschickteren uns, Ihr Schicksals- sohne, zuriickgelassen, Ihr guten Geister, da seid ihr auch, Oftmals, wenn einen dann die heilige Wolk umschwebt, Da staunen wir und wissens nioht zu deuten. Ihr aber wiirzt mit Nektar uns den Othem Und dann frohlocken wir oft oder es bef aUt uns Ein Sinnen, wenn ihr aber einen zu sehr liebt, Er ruht nicht, bis er euer einer geworden.

Darum, ihr Giitigenl umgebet mich leicht, Damit ich bleiben moge, denn noch ist manches zu singen, Jetzt aber endiget, selig- weinend, Wie eine Sage der Liebe, Mir der Gesang, und so auch ist er Mir, mit Erroten, Erblassen, Von Anfang her ge- gangen. Doch Alles geht so. There it is that on feast days go The swarthy women Upon silken ground, At the time of March When night is equal with day.

And over slow passes. Heavy with golden dreams, Drift wild airs bringing sleep. But let one hand me, Full of the dark hght. The fragrant cup. That I might rest; for sweet Sleep would be, under shadows. It is not good Soulless to be, with mortal Thoughts. Yet good Is converse, and to say The heart's meaning, to hear much Of days of love, And events, the doing of deeds.

Stories about #geschichte

But where are the friends? Bellarmin With the companion? Many a one Bears shyness, timid to go to the source; The beginning of riches is truly In the sea. They, the seafarers, Like painters, assemble The beautiful of the earth, and do not disdain Winged war, and suffer To live alone, yearlong, under The leafless mast, where the night is not lit up With the glow-lamps of the town's feast days.

Nor the playing of strings nor innate dancing. The river goes out. The sea, though, Takes and gives recollection, And love, too, fixes the eyes intently. What endures, however, poets create. Nicht ist es gut Seellos von sterb- lichen Gedanken zu seyn. Wo aber sind die Freunde? Bellarmin Mit dem Gefahrten? Was bleibet aber, stiften die Dichter.

But where danger is, there Arises salvation also. In darkness dwell The eagles, and fearless across the abyss Go the sons of the Alps On hghtly built bridges. Therefore, since all round are upheaped The summits of time. And those that dwell nearest in love Must languish on uttermost mountains, Give us then innocent water, pinions give us, to pass Over with constant minds and again return.

So I spoke, when swifter Than I had fancied, and far. Whither I never had thought to come, A Genius bore me away From my house. In the twilight The shadowy woods darkened as I went And the yearning brooks of my home; No more did I know these lands. Yet soon in fresh radiance. Mysterious In the golden smoke. Swiftly sprung up With the tread of the sun, Asia bloomed out before me. But high in the light Blossoms the silver snow, And, witness to life everlasting.

On attainless walls The immemorial ivy grows, and upborne Upon living columns of cedars and laurels Are the solemn, The divinely built palaces. But about Asia's portals. Running hither and thither In hazardous wastes of sea Ripple shadowless ways enough, Yet the seaman knoweth the isles. Yet bountiful In the needier house Is she nonetheless. And when out of shipwreck or in Lament for his home Or the departed friend. One of the strangers Draws near to her, she hears it with joy, And her children. The voices of the warm glade And the rock-dwelling breezes And the rocks too, they hear him, and lovingly The echo rings out to the lament of the man.

And the watchful man viewed well The face of the god As, at the mystery of the vine. They sat together, at the hour of the banquet, And quietly prescient in his great soul The Lord spake death and the last love; For never enough Had he of words for telling of kindness At that time, and gladdening. When he saw it, the wrath of the world. For all things are good. Therefore he died. Of that There were much to be said.

And the friends saw How he gazed forth victorious, The most joyful of all, at the last. Yet they mourned, as now It was grown evening, astounded, For in their souls the men weighed A mighty decision, but they loved Life under the sun, and they would not leave The face of the Lord and their homeland. Inwrought was that As fire in the iron, and at their side Went the shadow of the Beloved.

Therefore he sent them The Spirit, and the house trembled. And the storm of God Rolled far-thundering over their fateful heads. Where brooding Were gathered the heroes of death Now as he, in departure, Once more appeared before them. No good Had it been later, cleaving abruptly And truthless, the work of man, and it was joy From now on To dwell in loving night and maintain Steadfast in simple eyes Abysses of wisdom. And deep On the mountains too Living images flourish.

Yet it is dreadful how far and wide God endlessly scatters the living. Dreadful it is to leave The face of dear friends and to wander Far over the mountains alone. When the Heavenly Spirit, Known before in communion, Was single in meaning; and though it was never foretold them, Yet by their very Hair did it seize them. As, hastening away into the distance, God of a sudden looked back, and conjuring Him to remain, naming the evil, Bounden henceforth as with golden cords. They gave one another their hands. It is the cast of the Sower, as he seizes The wheat with his spade And flings across to the clear grain.

Driving it over the threshing floor. The husks fall at his feet, But in the end cometh the com. And no evil it is if something Is lost and the living sound Fades from our speech, For heavenly labor is like to our own. The Highest would not have AH at one time. So long as the pit bear iron. And Etna ghttering resin, So I have riches To fashion an image and see in the semblance Christ as he had been. But when one spurred himself on, And sadly speaking on the way where I was weaponless.

Overpowered me, so that I marveled and an impostor Would be moulding an image of God- Visible in anger did I once See the sovereigns of heaven. Not that I were To become anything, but to learn. Kindly they are, but most Hateful to them as long as they reign Is falsehood, as there dwells Himianity then no more among men. For they do not reign, rather Fate Reigns more immortally. And when ascends higher The heavenly pageant of triumph. The exulting Son of the Most High, Like to the sun itself, is named by the mighty An emblem, and here is the staff Of song signaling down.

For nothing is common. It wakens the dead Who are not yet caught by the rawness of death. But many shy eyes Wait to behold the Hght. They would not Blossom forth in the sharp radiance. Though the golden bridle guideth their courage. But when, As from swelHng eyebrows Forgetful of the world.

Dorthe - Laß Doch Die Alten Geschichten

Quietly shining strength falls From the Holy Scriptures, Rejoicing in grace They yield themselves to calm vision. Quiet is his sign In the thimderous sky. And One stands beneath it His life long. For Christ Hves yet. But the heroes, his sons. All are come and the Holy Scriptures From him, and the deeds of the earth Have illumined the hghtning till now, A contest unwaning.

But he is there. For his works Are known to him from everlasting. Too long, too long already Has the glory of the Blessed been viewless. For each of the Blessed demand sacrifice. Yet if one were passed over Ne'er did it bring about good. We have served the earth our mother And of late we have served The light of the sim Unwittingly, but the Father who rules over all Loves best that the constant Letter be fostered, And enduring existence Interpreted well. With this is accordant The song of my people. Wo aber Gefahr ist, wachst I Das Rettende auch. So sprach ich, da entfiihrte Mich schneller, denn ich vermutet I Und weit, wohin ich nimmer Zu kommen gedacht, ein Genius mich Vom eigenen Haus.

Denn alles ist gut. Drauf starb er. Vieles ware Zu sagen davon. Und es griinen Tief an den Bergen auch lebendige Bilder. Doch furchtbar ist, wie da und dort Unendlich hin zerstreut das Lebende Gott. Nicht alles will der Hochste zumal. Zwar Eisen traget der Schacht, Und glii- hende Harze der Atna, So hatt ich Reichtum, Ein Bild zu bil- den, und ahnlich Zu schaun, wie er gewesen, den Christ, Wenn aber einer spornte sich selbst, Und traurig redend, un- terweges, da ich wehrlos ware, Mich iiberfiele, dass ich staunt und von dem Gotte Das Bild nachahmen mocht ein Knecht— Im Zome sichtbar sah' ich einmal Des Himmels Herm, nicht, dass ich sein soUt etwas, sondern Zu lernen.

Giitig sind sie, ihr Verhasstestes aber ist, Solange sie herrschen, das Falsche, und es gilt I Dann Menschliches unter Menschen nicht mehr. Denn sie nicht walten, es waltet aber Unsterblicher Schicksal und es wandelt ihr Werk Von selbst und eilend geht es zu Ende. Die Toten wecket Er auf, die noch getangen nicht Vom Rohen sind. Es warten aber Der scheuen Augen viele Zu schauen das Licht. Still ist sein Zei- chen I Am donnernden Himmel. Und Einer stehet daninter Sein Leben lang. Denn noch lebt Christus.

Er ist aber dabei. Denn seine Werke sind Ihm alle bewusst von jeher. Zu lang, zu lang schon ist Die Ehre der Himmlischen unsicht- bar. Dem f olgt deutscher Gesang. Ripened the fruit, in fire cast, baked And tried on the earth, and it is the law That all go back into it, like snakes, Prophetic, dreaming on The hills of the heavens. And there is so much Like a burden Of logs on the shoulders That has to be borne. Though the roads Are not right. For discrepant, As horses, go the tethered Elements and the immemorial Laws of the earth. And ever A longing strains after the fetterless.

But there is so much That has to be borne. And one must be true. Let us look not before, though, Nor after. May we be rocked, rather, as A boat is cradled at sea.

Compare this fairy tale in two languages

Aber bos sind Die Pfade. Und immer Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht. Vieles aber ist Zu behalten. Und Noth die Treue. Vorwarts aber und riikwarts woUen wir [ Nicht sehn. Uns wiegen lassen, wie Auf schwankem Kahne der See. Voices calmly wending filled And aired is the ancient Bliss-wont hall; fragrant above green carpets floats The happy cloud, stand gleaming wide, Of ripest fruit abundant, and of golden-wreathed bowls. Well meted out, resplendent rows Uprising here and there aside of the Smoothed ground, the tables.

For, coming from afar Hither, at eventide, Loving guests have bid themselves. Dawn fills my eyes. Well-nigh I deem This celebration's prince. Him, to behold That smiles upon a day's great labor: Although you will deny your strangeness And, wearied by your glorious course, Cast down your eyes, forgotten, softly shaded. And will take on a friendly shape, O Widely Known, Yet bends the knees your awe.

Nothing outstrips you; But this I know: of mortal you came not. Wisdom may show me many a thing, but Where a god enters as well A more luminous day wiU break. Yet not xmheralded he comes: And he whom neither flame nor flood deterred Need not be vainly startled by this stillness, now That neither man nor spirit yields to order. Downstream to sleep, at the sounding of peace. But, days endeared of innocence, you also bring Today, O loved ones, the celebration, and The spirit blossoms in this quiet round; And hasten forth I must, although, O friends, my locks are gray, an eternal youth Preparing the wreaths for the feast.

And many a one I would gladly ask; but you. Concerned, stem but friendly, for mankind, who Far off beneath Syrian palms, Close by that city, would sit by the well: The com fields mstled, quietly the cool Air breathed in the shade of the sacred mountains. So did loving friends shade you, Like faithful clouds tempering Your rays cast toward man.

Noivern Vore [German Version] by Cajade on DeviantArt

A mortal doom, amidst your words, was to fold A darker shade around you, dreadful fate. So transient Is what Heaven proffers; but not in vain therefore, For but lightly a god will touch, knowing What are our limits, the human abode. Nor can we reckon the moment. Then, too, Hcense may walk unleashed, Blasphemers shall reach the holy spot From distant parts, exercising their frenzy To strike at a fate; yet gratitude Does not come straight in the wake of divine gifts: It must be won through ordeal. Had not the giver been thrifty always, Surely the sacred treasures of our hearth Would have turned all to destruction.

Even so, much was granted us from above. Fire we received. And the shores, and the floods of the sea. Before your eyes the stars Teach you, who shall never become their equal. Of the eternally living, however. Whence joy flows, and song, One came, a son, valiantly calm. And now we behold him. Knowing his father, now That, to hold his celebration. The high Spirit of the World Has descended toward us. Too great he was to be the lord of ages; Too far his realm to be ever exhausted. Even so, one day a god may choose labor To be like the mortals, sharing their fate. For it is decreed that all shall recognize each other.

And language hold sway once silence has returned. Yet where the Spirit liveth we venture forth. Contending for the best. Thus I judge it best —When the painter has at last achieved his likeness And stepped, masterful, from his workshop, lord of love only— That equity reign All the way from earth to heaven. Man has experienced much since the dawn. Ever since speech began, and mutual notice; But song follows apace.

And the vision of time, divinely unfolding. Sign of the Spirit, lies before us, bonds of aUiance Fastening his might to the powers of nature. Not him alone, but the unborn generations This token proves: just as in plants Mother Earth, and air, and light will join together. Yet as a final token, O holy powers, This very day of celebration testifies For you, a mark of love. You, unforgettable one, at time's decline, Our celebration's youthful prince. No sooner wiU This race lie down imtil You, promised ones, each single one Of you, immortal beings, to pronounce Your heaven's bounties, have arrived In our house.

Fragrant breezes Are your herald. The steaming downs announce you And the ground, still resounding with tempests. Now the cheek is refreshed with hope And in front of the opened bouse The mother sits with her child. Regarding this utter peace. And fewer seem the agonies. A harbinger has caught the soul, A promise sent, of golden light.

Keeping the aged from dying. Well wrought from above are The savors of life. And labors banned. For all is pleasing now, But most of all Simphcity: for the vainly sought. The golden fruit. You grieved, O Mother, like The Honess when. Nature, You lost your children. Too eagerly loving, you suffered their loss.

When robbed of them by a foe Whom you almost took for your own son, A satyr mingling with gods. Thus you did much of your building And buried many a thing. For you are hated by those whom You, powerful beyond time. Had drawn forth into hght.