Translation
Shroud your heavens, Zeus,
In mist of clouds,
And try your hand, as would a boy
Who cuts the heads off thistles
At oaks and mountain heights;
Yet my Earth
You must leave to me,
And my cabin that you did not build
And my hearth,
The fire of which
You envy me for.
I know nothing more pathetic
Under the sun than you gods!
Miserably, you feed
On offerings of sacrifice
And whiffs of prayer
To nourish your majesty,
And would starve, were not
Children and beggars
Hopeful fools.
When I was a child,
Unsure of where to go,
I turned my lost eye
To the sun, as if above it
There was an ear to hear my lament,
A heart after my own,
To take pity on the oppressed.
Who aided me
Against the hubris of the Titans?
Who saved me from death,
From servitude?
Did you not achieve all of that by yourself,
Sacred glowing heart?
And glowed young and well,
Betrayed, gratitude for rescue
To one who lies asleep above?
I honour you? What for?
Did you ever soothe the pains
Of the burdened?
Did you ever halt the tears
Of the afraid?
Was I not forged into a man
By time almighty
And fate immortal,
Masters of mine and yours?
Did you really believe
That I should hate life,
Seek refuge in deserts,
Because not all of the
Blossom-dreams flowered?
Here I sit, moulding others
In my image,
A kind to be just like me,
To suffer, to cry,
To enjoy and to rejoice,
And to disregard you
As I do!
Notes
Goethe was right on the cusp of his breakthrough when he wrote this (anti-)hymn that was to become one of his most well-known poems and one of the most emblematic texts of the Sturm und Drang period (c. 1765-1785). Around the same time of writing this masterpiece, in the years 1773 and 1774, he published his drama Götz von Berlichingen and his epistolary novel Die Leiden des jungen Werther that skyrocketed him to fame all over Europe. Radical, emotional, irreverent, those were some of the features of the movement that was carried by young authors and gave voice and flight to the emerging ideas of Enlightenment – “dare to think for yourself,” indeed!
There is not much to say by way of translation since the structure of the poem (with a conscious disregard for rhyme schemes, meter and so on) eases the task. If anything, the most important note of interest is one for readers familiar with the German original: It might be said that the most famous neologism in German literature is the word Knabenmorgenblütenträume. This compound occurs in most popular versions of this poem at the end of the second-to-last stanza. Broken up into its parts, it literally translates to “boy morning blossoms dreams” and refers to a type of childish naivety and optimism. Interestingly enough, it actually never existed in any of the versions published and authorized by Goethe himself! Not as far as I can see, in any case.(1)
Its origin can be found in the first print of the poem in 1785, which was not authorized by Goethe and does not bear his name either. And in that version, the phrase is not a compound either but a list: Knabenmorgen, Blüthen, Träume. Funnily enough, I found a digitization of this first print and in that particular copy, someone corrected the poem with a pen, in accordance with its later appearance:
Note how the person crossed out Knabenmorgen and added a hyphen between Blüthen (= Blüten) and Träume to turn them into one word: Blütenträume. That is the word that Goethe used in his own publication of the poem (both in 1789 and 1827) and therefore the one that I used in my translation above.
I suppose no one who has not grown up with this poem and the fame of Knabenmorgenblütenträume can appreciate just how curious it is that this word never even existed in the poem in the form that is purported in school books and the like.
Anyway. It is a great word. Maybe Goethe should have used it… but to suggest so would be quite the sacrilege and as much as the poem inspires the reader to cast aside all deities, Goethe is the one it cemented.
(1) See also the entry on the word by Robert Charlier in the GWb (Goethe dictionary), vol. 5 col. 468, online: <http://www.woerterbuchnetz.de/GWB?lemma=knabenmorgenbluetentraeume> – the range charmingly goes, in this case, from Knabenmorgenblütenträume to Knackwurst, a type of sausage. Truly the poet of the nation.
Image Credits
The header image is taken from Peter Paul Ruben’s painting Prometheus, 1636–1637, digitized by the Museo Nacional del Prado.
The notes image is taken from Die Gartenlaube (1875), page 601 – a depiction of Karl August (cropped out by me, sorry, Karl!) and Goethe during the Sturm und Drang period.
german poetry 