No slumber soothes my burning eyes,
And at my window, in the skies,
The day's already bright.
Torn to and fro in its debates
My busy doubting mind creates
Dark phantoms of the night.
— Oh my soul, now cease
This self-torment, be at peace
And rejoice! now here, now there, the morning
Bells chime out, from their own sleep returning.
Kein Schlaf noch kühlt das Auge mir,
Dort gehet schon der Tag herfür
An meinem Kammerfenster.
Es wühlet mein verstörter Sinn
Noch zwischen Zweifeln her und hin
Und schaffet Nachtgespenster.
– Ängste, quäle
Dich nicht länger, meine Seele!
Freu dich! schon sind da und dorten
Morgenglocken wach geworden.
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
Pages
▼
Wednesday, July 20, 2022
In the Early Morning
Eduard Mörike (1804-1875), "In der Frühe," tr. David Luke: