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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - To My Friend - Ode III
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BE void of feeling!
A heart that soon is stirr`d,
Is a possession sad
Upon this changing earth.

Behrisch, let spring`s sweet smile
Never gladden thy brow!
Then winter`s gloomy tempests
Never will shadow it o`er.

Lean thyself ne`er on a maiden`s
Sorrow-engendering breast.
Ne`er on the arm,
Misery-fraught, of a friend.

Already envy
From out his rocky ambush
Upon thee turns
The force of his lynx-like eyes,

Stretches his talons,
On thee falls,
In thy shoulders
Cunningly plants them.

Strong are his skinny arms,
As panther-claws;
He shaketh thee,
And rends thy frame.

Death `tis to part,
`Tis threefold death
To part, not hoping
Ever to meet again.

Thou wouldst rejoice to leave
This hated land behind,
Wert thou not chain`d to me
With friendships flowery chains.

Burst them! I`ll not repine.
No noble friend
Would stay his fellow-captive,
If means of flight appear.

The remembrance
Of his dear friend`s freedom
Gives him freedom
In his dungeon.

Thou go`st,—I`m left.
But e`en already
The last year`s winged spokes
Whirl round the smoking axle.

I number the turns
Of the thundering wheel;
The last one I bless.—
Each bar then is broken, I`m free then as thou!
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