Why
does that spot fix fast my sight,
That
flask, a magnet to my eyes' delight?
Why
am I flooded with a lovely light,
Like
glide of moon-glow in a forest's night?
I
greet you now, unique and precious phial,
With
reverence I fetch you down awhile.
In
you I praise true human wit and art.
You
essence of all fair, sleep-bringing juices,
You
extract of all fine and deadly forces,
Extend
your favour to your master's heart.
I
see you and my pain is softened,
I
grasp you and my striving's lessened,
The
spirit's flood tide slowly ebbs away,
I'm
led towards far, wide ocean deeps; I greet
The
mirroring flood that shimmers at my feet,
Towards
new-seen shores I'm lured by new day.
A
fiery chariot sweeps down to me
Upon
light wings! I feel I am prepared
To
push on through the ether's pathways there
To
refined, new spheres of high activity.
This
higher life, delight of gods, such bliss,
First
but a worm, are you deserving this?
Yes,
brave-resolving, turn your back upon
The
living light of earth's all-gracious sun,
And
fearless, force on through that portal's gate
That
everyone would like to sneak on by.
This
is the time through deeds to demonstrate
That
human honour does not yield to gods on high,
And
will not quake before that darkened cave,
Where
fancy's damned within its own tormenting,
When
striving towards that passage, not relenting,
Though
round its narrow mouth all hell's ablaze;
And
takes this step with good cheer, even if
It
were to risk a flowing into nothingness.
Now
come on down, you pure crystal bowl,
From
your old, dusty case that's kept you whole.
For
many years I have not thought of you.
You
shone out at my father's joyous feasts,
And
cheered the serious-minded guests
When
you were passed around amongst that crew.
It
was the drinker's task to clarify
Your
many artful, splendid scenes in rhymes
And
empty you in one good try;
It
brings to mind so many nights of youthful times.
I
shall not pass you to a neighbour now,
I
won't display my wit upon your art's fine power.
Here
is a drink most swift-intoxicating;
A
brown juice fills it to the brim. I will,
With
all my soul, now take my final fill,
As
festive, lofty greeting to the morning's breaking.
HE
SETS THE BOWL TO HIS MOUTH. BELLS CHIMING AND CHORAL SINGING.
CHORUS
OF ANGELS
Christ
has ascended!
Mortals
all happiness
On
whom invidious,
Passed-down,
insidious,
Binding
faults tended.
FAUST
What
deep, deep hum, what bright tone, draws and claims
The
glass here from my lips with such a power?
Already
do these muted chimes proclaim
The
Easter festival's first celebratory hour?
Do
you now sing, you choirs, the song of comfort's might,
Once
sung with angel's lips around the grave's cold night,
To
pledge a covenant so newly now?
CHORUS
OF WOMEN
With
spices we brought
We
tended Him so,
We
faithful ones thought
How
to lay Him below;
Linens
to bind
Around
Him with care;
Ah!
and we find
Christ
no more here.
CHORUS
OF ANGELS
Christ
has ascended!
Blessed
the One loving us,
Who
the most-troubling but
Healing
and strenuous
Test
took unbended.
FAUST
Why
do you seek, you mighty and mild,
Celestial
tones, seek me in dust?
Ring
out where softer men might be beguiled.
I
hear your message: all I lack is faith and trust.
And
miracle is faith's own dearest child.
I
dare not strive up towards those spheres,
That
ring out with such gracious tidings here,
And
yet accustomed to this sound from my youth on,
Even
now it calls me back into life's realm.
In
early life the loving kiss of heaven
Would
touch me in the holy Sabbath stillness;
So
full of promise were the bell tones in their fullness,
And
with a fervent joy my prayer was given.
Then
inconceivably sweet yearning
Drove
me through forest and through field;
Amid
my tears, by thousands burning,
I
felt a world in me unfurled.
This
song proclaimed, announced youth's lively games,
Spring
festival's free joy. I'm kept,
Remembering
that childlike feeling here again,
From
taking that last earnest step.
Ring
on, sweet heaven's song, now as before,
My
tears rise up, the earth holds me once more!
CHORUS
OF DISCIPLES
If
the grave-given One's
Raised
up already,
If
the high, living One's
Risen
in glory,
If,
in becoming's gladness,
He's
near creating's bliss;
Ah!
on the earth's dark breast,
We
are still bound to sadness.
Leaving
His own
Languishing
for Him;
Ah!
we bemoan,
Master,
Your fortune!
CHORUS
OF ANGELS
Christ
has ascended
From
the lap of corruption;
Cast
off your bands and
Joy
in your freedom!
Praise
Him with deeds most fair,
Showing
your love and care,
Feeding
all others there,
Teaching
out everywhere,
Promising
bliss to share,
Your
own true Master's near,
For
you He's here!
No comments:
Post a Comment