Erotica Romana · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IX
From your Olympian heights back to the base earth again. "Poet, come to your senses!"--Forgive me, Jupiter, is not Rome's Capitoline Hill second Olympus to you? Suffer me, Jupiter, here and let Hermes guide me at last then Past Cestius' Tomb gently to Orkus below. When you were small, you say, neither did others consider you f air, nor Even your mother find praise--and I believe it-- Till you grew bigger, developing quietly over the years. I Picture you to myself as an unusual child. Also the blossoms on grapevines are wanting in shape and in color, Although the fruit when it's ripe pleases both mankind and gods. Kindling autumnal fire in a rustic, convivial fireplace (How the sticks crackle and spew flames and glittering sparks!) Strikes me especially pleasant this evening. Before all my tinder Dies away into coals, coals then to ashes decline, She will be back and new faggots as well as big logs will be blazing, Making a festival where lovers will warm up the night. Then in the morning, officious, she'll leave the bed of her lover, Rouse adroitly the flames out from their ashes anew. Cupid has lent to her above others the gift of cajoling Up from the ashes desire, just when slumber's begun. All of those greats: Alexander, Caesar and Henry and Fredrick, Gladly would share with me half of their hard fought renown, Could I but grant them my bed for one single night, and its comfort, But the poor wretches are held stark in cold Orkian grip. Therefore, ye living, rejoice that love keeps you warm for a while yet, Until cold Lethe anoints, captures your foot in its flight.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.