The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
1767. ----- MAHOMET'S SONG.
Let all come, then!-- And now swells he Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people Bears his regal flood on high! And in triumph onward rolling, Names to countries gives he,--cities Spring to light beneath his foot. Ever, ever, on he rushes, Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits, Marble palaces, the offspring Of his fullness, far behind. Cedar-houses bears the Atlas On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring In the breeze far, far above him Thousand flags are gaily floating, Bearing witness to his might. And so beareth he his brethren, All his treasures, all his children, Wildly shouting, to the bosom Of his long-expectant sire. THE soul of man Resembleth water: From heaven it cometh, To heaven it soareth. And then again To earth descendeth, Changing ever. Down from the lofty Rocky wall Streams the bright flood, Then spreadeth gently In cloudy billows O'er the smooth rock, And welcomed kindly, Veiling, on roams it, Soft murmuring, Tow'rd the abyss. Cliffs projecting Oppose its progress,-- Angrily foams it Down to the bottom, Step by step. Now, in flat channel, Through the meadowland steals it, And in the polish'd lake Each constellation Joyously peepeth. Wind is the loving Wooer of waters; Wind blends together Billows all-foaming. Spirit of man, Thou art like unto water! Fortune of man, Thou art like unto wind!
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.