follow, in my footsteps walk?
Follow yourself unswervingly,
So – careful! – shall you follow me.
My skin bursts, breaks for fresh rebirth,
And new desires come thronging:
Much I've devoured, yet for more earth
The serpent in me's longing.
'Twixt stone and grass I crawl once more,
Hungry, by crooked ways,
To eat the food I ate before,
Earth-fare all serpents praise!
My luck's good – I'd make yours fairer,
(Good luck ever needs a sharer),
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger,
Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger —
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
For my good luck's a trifle vicious,
Fond of teasing, tricks malicious —
Will you stop and pluck my roses?
Many drops I waste and spill,
So my scornful mood you curse:
Who to brim his cup doth fill,
Many drops must waste and spill —
Yet he thinks the wine no worse.
Harsh and gentle, fine and mean,
Quite rare and common, dirty and clean,
The fools' and the sages' go-between:
All this I will be, this have been,
Dove and serpent and swine, I ween!
That eye and sense be not fordone
E'en in the shade pursue the sun!
Smoothest ice,
A paradise
To him who is a dancer nice.
A feud that knows not flaw nor break,
Rather then patched-up friendship, take.
Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy!
"He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry.
"How shall I reach the top?" No time
For thus reflecting! Start to climb!
Ask never! Cease that whining, pray!
Take without asking, take alway!
Narrow souls hate I like the devil,
Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.
He shot an empty word
Into the empty blue;
But on the way it met
A woman whom it slew.
A twofold pain is easier far to bear
Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?
Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick:
For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!
"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!"
Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.
If I explain my wisdom, surely
'Tis but entangled more securely,
I can't expound myself aright:
But he that's boldly up and doing,
His own unaided course pursuing,
Upon my image casts more light!
Those old capricious fancies, friend!
You say your palate naught can please,
I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze,
My love, my patience soon will end!
Pluck up your courage, follow me —
Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink,
Swallow it whole, nor pause to think!
From your dyspepsia you'll be free!
Many men's minds I know full well,
Yet what mine own is, cannot tell.
I cannot see – my eye's too near —
And falsely to myself appear.
'Twould be to me a benefit
Far from myself if I could sit,
Less distant than my enemy,
And yet my nearest friend's too nigh —
'Twixt him and me, just in the middle!
What do I ask for? Guess my riddle.
I must ascend an hundred stairs,
I must ascend: the herd declares
I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?"
I must ascend an hundred stairs:
All men the part of stair disown.
"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!"
Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing!
Now comes the test! Keep cool – eyes bright and clear!
Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest – fear.
See the infant, helpless creeping —
Swine around it grunt swine-talk —
Weeping always, naught but weeping,
Will it ever learn to walk?
Never fear! Just wait, I swear it
Soon to dance will be inclined,
And this babe, when two legs bear it,
Standing on its head you'll find.
Did I not turn, a rolling cask,
Ever about myself, I ask,
How could I without burning run
Close on the track of the hot sun?
Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar,
I'd have him