-Caspar David Friedrich “The Watzmann”

Within the Alps it is still bright night and the cloud,
Composing poems full of joy, covers the yawning valley within.
This way, that way, roars and rushes the playful mountain breeze,
Steep down through the fir trees a ray of light gleams and vanishes.
Chaos, trembling with joy, slowly hurries and struggles,
Young in form, yet strong, it celebrates loving strife
Amidst the rocks, it seethes and shakes in its eternal bounds,
For more bacchantically morning rises within,
For the year grows more endlessly there and the holy
Hours, the days, are more boldly ordered and mingled.
Yet the bird of the thunderstorm notes the time and between
Mountains, high in the air he hovers and calls out the day.
Now in the depths within, the little village also awakens and
Fearless, familiar with the high, looks up from under the peaks.
Divining growth, for already, like lightning flashes, the ancient
Waterfalls crash, the ground steaming beneath the falls,
Echo resounds all about, and the immeasurable workshop,
Dispensing gifts, actively moves its arm by day and night.

-Holderlin Homecoming

Digg!

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 10th, 2010 at 2:03 pm and is filed under Art, Moments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.