Muse and Poet


"Ghastly sick now and faint! And you, on high, would you
Not speak with me — oh, what does all this silence mean?
Give me the lyre!" — But no, quiet is required.
Sleep! Enjoy
your dreams! In silence will I send help for you.
On
your head a wreath will blossom; and be it for life,
Be it for death, take heart! My hand will braid it for
you.
"I have no desire for laurels to embellish my cold brow:
Let me live, and save
your gladding flowers for a spray!"


Translation: Charles L. Cingolani                        Copyright © 2008









Muse und Dichter


"Krank nun vollends und matt! Und du, o Himmlische, willst mir
Auch schon verstummen — o was deutet dies Schweigen mir an?
Gib die Leier!" — Nicht doch, dir ist die Ruhe geboten.
Schlafe! traeume nur! still ruf ich dir Huelfe herab.
Deinem Haupte noch bluehet ein Kranz; und sei es zum Leben,
Sei's zum Tode, getrost! meine Hand windet ihn dir.
"Keinen Lorbeer will ich, die kalte Stirne zu schmuecken:
Laß mich leben, und gib froehliche Blumen zum Strauss!"



Eduard Moerike  1837



. . . On his sickbed the poet does not request inspiration from the muse but simply to regain his health, to be able to live . . .