The Poems of Goethe Part 125

Yes, a world where life is moving,

Which, with impulse full and strong, Could forbode the Bulbul's loving,

Sweet, and spirit-stirring song.

Since they thus have swell'd our joy,

Should such torments grieve us, then?

Doth not Timur's rule destroy

Myriad souls of living men?

1815.*

----- VIII. SULEIKA NAME.

BOOK OF SULEIKA.

ONCE, methought, in the night hours cold,

That I saw the moon in my sleep; But as soon as I waken'd, behold

Unawares rose the sun from the deep.

THAT Suleika's love was so strong

For Joseph, need cause no surprise;

He was young, youth pleaseth the eyes,--

He was fair, they say, beyond measure

Fair was she, and so great was their pleasure.

But that thou, who awaitedst me long, Youthful glances of fire dost throw me, Soon wilt bless me, thy love now dost show me, This shall my joyous numbers proclaim, Thee I for ever Suleika shall name.

1815.

----- HATEM.

NOT occasion makes the thief;

She's the greatest of the whole; For Love's relics, to my grief,

From my aching heart she stole.

She hath given it to thee,--

All the joy my life had known, So that, in my poverty,

Life I seek from thee alone.

Yet compa.s.sion greets me straight

In the l.u.s.tre of thine eye, And I bless my newborn fate,

As within thine arms I lie.

1815.

----- SULEIKA.

THE sun appears! A glorious sight!

The crescent-moon clings round him now.

What could this wondrous pair unite?

How to explain this riddle? How?

HATEM.

May this our joy's foreboder prove!

In it I view myself and thee; Thou calmest me thy sun, my love,--

Come, my sweet moon, cling thou round me!

1815.

----- LOVE for love, and moments sweet,

Lips returning kiss for kiss, Word for word, and eyes that meet;

Breath for breath, and bliss for bliss.

Thus at eve, and thus the morrow!

Yet thou feeblest, at my lay, Ever some half-hidden sorrow; Could I Joseph's graces borrow,

All thy beauty I'd repay!

1815.

----- HATEM.

O, SAY, 'neath what celestial sign

The day doth lie, When ne'er again this heart of mine

Away will fly?

And e'en though fled (what thought divine!)

Would near me lie?-- On the soft couch, on whose sweet shrine

My heart near hers will lie!