Friedrich Holderlin

Isn't my heart holy, more full of life's beauty,
since I fell in love? Why did you like me more
when I was prouder and wilder, more full
of words, yet emptier? Well, the crowd likes whatever sells in the

The open day is bright with pictures for everyone, when green fields appear on the distant plain, before the light of evening yields to twilight, and reflections of light alleviate the noise of the day.
The inner being of the world often…

When I was a boy a god would often rescue me
from the shouting and violence of humans.
Then, safe and well,
I would play

Once gods walked among humans,
The splendid Muses and youthful
Inspired and healed us, just like you.
And you are to me as if one of the Holy Ones Had sent me forth into life, and the image Of my beloved goes with me

My heart awakened to life in your valleys, Your waves played around me.
And all of the fair hills that know you,
Wayfarer, are known to me as well.
On those peaks the winds from the sky Relieved me from pains of bondage

Holy spirits, you walk up there
in the light, on soft earth.
Shining god-like breezes
touch upon you gently

The lines of life are various,
Like roads, and the borders of mountains.
What we are here, a god can complete there,
With harmonies, undying reward, and peace.

It is still bright night in the Alps, and a cloud, Authoring joyfulness, covers the yawning valley.
Playful mountain breezes rush and toss about, and a ray Of light shines abruptly through the firs and disappears.
Chaos,…

The margins of the forest are beautiful, as if painted onto the green slopes.
I walk around, and sweet peace rewards me for the thornsin my heart, when the mind has grown dark, for right from the startart and thinking have cost it…

The god Is near, and hard to grasp.
But where there is danger,
A rescuing element grows as well.
Eagles live in the darkness

The northeast blows, my favorite among winds, since it promises fiery spirit and a good voyage to mariners.
But go now, and greet the lovely Garonne, and the gardens of Bordeaux, where the path runs beside the steep bank, and the brook runs…

Where are you? Drunk, my mind becomes
Twilight after all your ecstasy. For I just saw
How the enrapturing young god,
Tired from his journey

Round about the city rests. The illuminated streets grow Quiet, and coaches rush along, adorned with torches.
Men go home to rest, filled with the day's pleasures; Busy minds weigh up profit and loss contentedly At home. The busy…

You too wanted better things, but love
forces all of us down. Sorrow bends us more
forcefully, but the arc doesn't return to its
point of origin without a reason.

Grant me just one summer, powerful ones, And just one autumn for ripe songs,
That my heart, filled with that sweet
Music, may more willingly die within me.
The soul, denied its divine heritage in life, Won't find rest down in Hades…

The fruits are ripe, dipped in fire,
Cooked and sampled on earth.  And there's a law,
That things crawl off in the manner of snakes,
Prophetically, dreaming on the hills of heaven.