Muse and Poet

"Ghastly sick now and faint! And you, Celestial One,
Would you not speak with me — oh, what does all this silence
Give me the lyre!" — But no, you are in need of rest.
Sleep! Enjoy your dreams! Quietly I will send help for you.
On your head may a wreath 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 adorn my cold brow:
Let me live, and save the gladsome flowers for a spray!"

Translation: Charles L. Cingolani                        Copyright © 2008

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

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