Don't believe yourself
Do not, do not believe yourself, young dreamer,
Fear inspiration like the plague . . .
It is the heavy ravings of your sick soul (**or the chafings of a mind imprisoned.)
Don't seek in vain for heavenly reflections in it:
Either it's the blood seething or excess strength!
Rather drain your life in worries,
Pour out the poisoned drink!
--------------
Should you happen at a miraculous moment
To dig up in the soul long silent
Still an unknown virginal spring,
Full of simple sweet sounds,--
Don't listen to them, don't give yourself up to them,
Throw a cover of oblivion on them:
With measured verses, icy words
Don't consider them significant.
--------------
Should sorrow creep into the sanctum of your soul
Or passion come by with thunder,-- and storms,--
Don't go to the noisy human feast
With your mad (female) friend;
Don't lower yourself.
Be ashamed of trading
With either anxiety or willing torment,
And of openly displaying spiritual sores
For the amusement of a simpleminded crowd.
---------------
What's it to us whether you suffered or not
Why should we know your troubles,
The stupid desires of early years, |
The plaints of stupid reason?
Look: before you goes playfully
The crowd along its wellworn path
No traces of trouble on the holiday faces
No inappropriate tears
-------------
But among them is hardly a one
Not crushed by heavy torture
Into early wrinkles Without crime or loss! . .
Believe me: to them are laughable your crying and blame
With its memorized refrain,
Like a painted tragic actor
Waving a cardboard sword.