I was raised by the song Of the murmuring grove And loving I learned Among Flowers.

Being at one is god-like and good, but human, too human, the maniaWhich insists there is only the One, one country, one truth, and one way.

In life learn art, in the artwork learn life. If you see the one correctly you see the other also.

What has always made a Hell on earth has been that man has tried to make it his Heaven.

El hombre es un dios cuando sueña y un mendigo cuando reflexiona

Everything that I have knownYou'll write to me to remindMe of, and likewise I shall doThe whole past I'll recount to you

Thus the sons of earth now drink in The fire of heaven without danger. And it is our duty, poets, to stand Bare-headed under the storms of God, Grasping with our own hand The Father's beam itself, And to offer the gift of heaven, Wrapped in song, to the people.From “As On a Holiday” (“Wie Wenn am Feiertage”)

But friend, we come too late. It's true that the gods live,But up over our heads, up in a different world.They function endlessly up there, and seem to care littleIf we live or die, so much do they avoid us.A weak vessel cannot hold them forever; humans canEndure the fullness of the gods only at times. ThereforeLife itself becomes a dream about them.

Living tones are we, we sound together in thy harmony.

Why do you like me more when I was prouder and wilder, more full of words, yet emptier?