Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Ganymed

HOW, in the morning brightness
You illumine around me,
Springtime, Beloved!
With thousandfold love-blisses
The holy sensation
Of your eternal warmth
Presses itself upon my heart,
Unendingly beautiful!

Could I but embrace it
In this arm!

Ah, upon thy breast
Might I lie, languish,
And thy blossoms, thy grass
might lean upon my heart.
You cool the burning
Thirst of my bosom,
Lovely morning-wind!
Thither calls the nightingale
Lovesome for me from the misty vale.

I come, I come!
Whither, ah whither?

Up, up it surges.
The clouds are leaning
Downwards, the clouds
Bow down with yearning Love.
To me! To me!
Into their lap,
Upwards!
Embracing, embraced!

Upwards to thy bosom,
All-loving Father!


Written 1770–1775. Translation by Steven J. Plunkett (the original is not rhymed either).

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