The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
1815.* ----- THE SAME, EXPANDED.
IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care, Let not the past torment thee e'er; If any loss thou hast to rue, Act as though thou wert born anew; Inquire the meaning of each day, What each day means itself will say; In thine own actions take thy pleasure, What others do, thou'lt duly treasure; Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied, And to God the future confide. ----- IF wealth is gone--then something is gone! Quick, make up thy mind, And fresh wealth find. If honour is gone--then much is gone! Seek glory to find, And people then will alter their mind. If courage is gone--then all is gone! 'Twere better that thou hadst never been born. ----- HE who with life makes sport, Can prosper never; Who rules himself in nought, Is a slave ever. MAY each honest effort be Crown'd with lasting constancy. ----- EACH road to the proper end Runs straight on, without a bend. SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters, Calmly slumb'ring lies the main, While the sailor views with trouble Nought but one vast level plain. Not a zephyr is in motion! Silence fearful as the grave! In the mighty waste of ocean Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave. THE mist is fast clearing. And radiant is heaven, Whilst AEolus loosens Our anguish-fraught bond. The zephyrs are sighing, Alert is the sailor. Quick! nimbly be plying! The billows are riven, The distance approaches; I see land beyond!
CARELESSLY over the plain away, Where by the boldest man no path Cut before thee thou canst discern, Make for thyself a path! Silence, loved one, my heart! Cracking, let it not break! Breaking, break not with thee! I FEEL that I'm possess'd of nought, Saving the free unfetterd thought Which from my bosom seeks to flow, And each propitious passing hour That suffers me in all its power A loving fate with truth to know. WHEREFORE ever ramble on? For the Good is lying near, Fortune learn to seize alone, For that Fortune's ever here. OLD age is courteous--no one more: For time after time he knocks at the door, But nobody says, "Walk in, sir, pray!" Yet turns he not from the door away, But lifts the latch, and enters with speed. And then they cry "A cool one, indeed!" As a boy, reserved and naughty; As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty; As a man, for action inclined; As a greybeard, fickle in mind.-- Upon thy grave will people read: This was a very man, indeed! IF men are never their thoughts to employ, Take care to provide them a life full of joy; But if to some profit and use thou wouldst bend them, Take care to shear them, and then defend them. WEEP ye not, ye children dear, That as yet ye are unborn: For each sorrow and each tear Makes the father's heart to mourn. Patient be a short time to it, Unproduced, and known to none; If your father cannot do it, By your mother 'twill be done.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.