歌词
Now do all gushing fountains speak louder
And my soul also is a gushing fountain
Now only do all songs of the loving ones awake
And my soul also is the song of a loving one
Something unappeased, unappeasable,
is within me; it longs to find expression
A craving for love is within me,
which speaks itself the language of love
Light am I: that I were night!
But it is my lonesomeness to be girt with light!
That I were dark and nightly!
And you yourselves would I bless,
you glow- worms aloft! -
and would rejoice in the gifts of your light
But I live in my own light,
I drink again into myself the flames
that break forth from me
I know not the happiness of the receiver;
and oft have I dreamt that stealing
must be more blessed than receiving
It is my poverty that my hand
never ceases bestowing;
it is my envy that I see waiting eyes
and the brightened nights of longing
The misery of all bestowers!
the darkening of my sun!
the craving to crave!
the violent hunger in satiety!
They take from me:
but do I yet touch their soul?
There is a gap between
giving and receiving;
and the smallest gap
has finally to be bridged over
A hunger arises out of my beauty:
I should like to injure those I illumine;
I should like to rob those I have gifted:
- thus do I hunger for wickedness
Withdrawing my hand
when another hand already stretches out to it;
hesitating like the cascade,
which hesitates even in its leap:
- thus do I hunger for wickedness!
Such revenge does my abundance
think of such mischief
wells out of my lonesomeness
My happiness in bestowing died in bestowing;
my virtue became weary of itself
by its abundance!
He who ever bestows
is in danger of losing his shame;
to him who ever dispenses,
the hand and heart
become callous by very dispensing
My eye no longer overflows
for the shame of suppliants;
my hand has become too hard
for the trembling of filled hands
Whence have gone the tears of my eyes,
and the down of my heart?
The lonesomeness of all bestowers!
the silence of all shining ones!
Many suns circle in desert space:
to all that is dark do they speak
with their light but to me they are silent
This is the hostility of light to the shining one:
unpityingly does it pursue its course
Unfair to the shining one in its innermost heart,
cold to the suns: -
thus travels every sun
Like a storm do the suns
pursue their courses:
that is their travelling Their inexorable
will do they follow: that is their coldness
You only is it, you dark, nightly ones,
that extract warmth from the shining ones!
You only drink milk and refreshment
from the light's udders!
There is ice around me; my hand
burns with the iciness!
There is thirst in me;
it pants after your thirst!
Alas, that I have to be light!
And thirst for the nightly!
And lonesomeness!
Now does my longing break forth
in me as a fountain, - for speech do I long
Now do all gushing fountains speak louder
And my soul also is a gushing fountain
Now do all songs of loving ones awake
And my soul also is the song of a loving one