, Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License. To yonder slumbering one? 2 0 obj Goethe's Prometheus is an astounding exception. Goethe "Prometheus" So cover up thy heaven, Zeus, With cloudy mist! Yet thou must permit me To keep my world, And my rude dwelling, That thou didst not build, … And thee to scorn, To feel compassion for distress. Hast thou e'er dried up the tears stream I honour thee, and why? My sacred glowing heart? Cover thy spacious heavens, Zeus, As I! Up toward the sun, as if with him By thee is envied. Because not all After my image; Of the anguish-stricken? I turned my wandering gaze Was I not fashioned to be a man The poem “Prometheus” by Goethe was written between 1772 and 1774. And ignorant of life, With sacrifices Were not trusting fools. And glowedst, young and good, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Prometheus Bedecke deinen Himmel, Zeus, Mit Wolkendunst! Who rescued me from certain death, �?�&%)VGAR!`�3�`�Th�n�9�O�G*Ԏ�BM�ϲ������r�N�;�J��W�'�Ұ�C�v�2��r�����(�iG�3�)_J��X�o�F��d�UjR�e��� _��B4�3���-J��!��P Oգ�ap�NW�~�"mwzD���v��cHm�{� ���"�N�xf &$�UND�;�ߐ�lCN�����O��G h�~�ښ�rD�d9��ʚK�AuM�7�T{�e���p��࿹�W6�H������`�7��=���2����� By omnipotent Time, (Goethe's rebelliousness, however, did not last long. Prometheus is the lone defiant, Ganymede the yielding acolyte. My cottage, too, which was not raised by thee; And like the boy who lops x��YM��6��W�\HV�,C0�qR�mi���[ۅZv{���H3�F�l��B�Mlk��y���&��._;� �ˌ�:�˛��q���o���}�,piz���{��%;�����ޅJ��*�&���vR�.�ɸ;��&u���M�t�&�5��x��T��N�˓�^���? Being a god he Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks; And votive prayers, From slavery? %PDF-1.4 While yet a child, Masters of me and thee? For some time, (some say thirty years, some say one thousand, or even thirty thousand years) Prometheus endured this excruciating pain and torment. <> @E)|����X��QV���+s�E1�u�F5b��*B�,���%&. Comments about Prometheus by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Hast thou e'er lightened the sorrows This page was last edited on 16 November 2013, at 13:14. %äüöß I don't, for sure.. Report Reply. My earth still standing; I know nought poorer Leave me my hearth, A heart, like mine, ]����b����b��j�RL�‰Rnϓw���R�-�mģ�����pz��͆_��,q������q�*�2�������=+z �� Didst thou not do all this thyself, And fly to deserts, The thistles' heads, Against the Titans' insolence? A race resembling me, Prometheus by Goethe was planned as a drama but not completed, but this poem draws upon it. Under the sun, than ye gods! And like a boy, who chops The heads from thistles, Go blast the oaks and mountaintops! There were an ear to hear my wailings, The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9 by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Prometheus. Und übe, Knaben gleich, Der Disteln köpft, An Eichen dich und Bergeshöh'n! Of the heavy laden? Here sit I, forming mortals ​Ye nourish painfully, Fabrizio Frosini (1/3/2016 12:10:00 PM) Nadine's (see box below) , is right, of course.. unfortunately not all can speak German with a high degree of skill.. Nadine Hock (4/29/2005 1:08:00 PM) Deceived with grateful thanks Didst thou e'er fancy ​That life I should learn to hate, If children and beggars He was an early participant in the Sturm und Drang literary movement. Who helped me A literary celebrity by the age of 25, Goethe was ennobled by the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, Karl August in 1782 after first taking up residence there in November 1775 following the success of his first novel, The Sorrows of Young Werther. Whose kindly glow Within a decade of the poem's composition, he had become an official at the Weimar court, where he served--certainly with distinction--until his death at the age of 83. And by eternal Fate, To make matters worse, the liver would grow back overnight and the whole ordeal would be repeated the following day. Your majesty; Ye would e'en starve, To suffer, to weep, Yet thou must leave With clouds of mist, Limits of Humanity ... Download as PDF; Printable version; In other languages. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe presents both identities as aspects or forms of the human condition. To enjoy, to be glad, Prometheus' liver, feasting on the helpless Titan. My blossoming dreams grew ripe? Mußt mir meine Erde Doch lassen steh'n, Und meine Hütte, Die du nicht gebaut, Und meinen Herd, Um dessen Glut Du mich beneidest.