Authors: Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
| Look at the handsome boys! |
| What a shame, when they might move |
| in the very best society |
| and instead are chasing after servant girls! |
SECOND STUDENT
(
to the first
).
| Wait a moment! Two of them are coming over here; |
| they are done up so prettily, |
| and one of them’s my neighbor; |
| she always did appeal to me. |
840 | Both walk so primly and so unconcerned— |
| perhaps they’ll let us go along with them. |
| Brother, no! It’s too much trouble. |
| Hurry! Don’t let our quarry get away. |
| The hand that wields the broom on Saturdays |
| is best for Sunday’s sweet caresses. |
| The burgomaster goes against my grain! |
| Since he is in, his pride grows every day. |
| And what’s he done for our town? |
| Conditions go from bad to worse! |
850 | He wants obedience from us all, |
| while taxes climb to untold heights. |
BEGGAR
(
sings
)
.
| Fine gentlemen and ladies, |
| Decked out so well and rosy-cheeked, |
| If it please you, look at me, |
| Please look and ease my poverty. |
| Don’t let me grind my tune in vain. |
| Content is he who likes to give. |
| This is a holiday for all the world. |
| Let it be a harvest day for me. |
860 | On Sunday or on holidays I know of nothing better |
| than to converse of war and battle clamor, |
| when far away, perhaps on Turkish fields, |
| the nations maul each other zealously. |
| We stand by the window and we sip a glass |
| and see the painted ships glide down the river. |
| Then in the evening we go home content |
| and bless both Peace and peaceful times. |
| Neighbor, I agree with you, yes indeed I do. |
| Let them crack their skulls for all I care, |
870 | let everything go topsy-turvy |
| while nothing changes here at home. |
OLD WOMAN
(
to the
burgher’s daughters)
.
| Eh, how sweet they look! The gay young blood! |
| Who would not fall for you at a first glance?— |
| Don’t be stuck-up! There’s no harm in what I say! |
| You always end up with the thing you want. |
| Agatha, come along, I say we should avoid |
| the company of such a witch in public, |
| although it’s true that on St. Andrew’s Night 10 |
| she let me see my future sweetheart in the flesh— |
880 | I saw my own within her crystal ball, |
| soldierlike and in the company of daring men. |
| I look about and seek him everywhere, |
| and yet he won’t turn up for me. |
| The sturdy castle, |
| The moat, and the tower, |
| The haughty girls |
| Who sit and glower, |
| I wish to conquer. |
| Great is the strife |
890 | And glorious the prize. |
| And our bugle |
| Sounds the call |
| To joy and to pleasure |
| And to a great fall. |
| A charging and storming |
| Is our life! |
| Maidens and castles |
| They all must surrender. |
| Great is the strife |
900 | And glorious the prize! |
| And the soldiers |
| Go marching away. |
| |
| ( FAUST and WAGNER .) |
| Streams and brooks are freed of ice |
| by the reviving gracious eye of Spring; |
| Hope’s greenery grows in the valley. |
| Ancient Winter’s feeble self |
| has fallen back into the rugged mountains. |
| From there he sends in fitful flight |
| impotent showers of ice |
910 | in streaks across the greening fields, |
| but the sun will suffer no white; |
| all stirs with shaping and striving, |
| he endows each thing with his hue. |
| But in this region flowers are scarce, |
| the land is speckled with gay-colored people instead. |
| Turn about and from these heights |
| cast your glance back to the town. |
| Out from the hollow, gloomy gate |
| a motley crowd is surging today, |
920 | eager for the rays of the sun. They celebrate |
| the resurrection of the Lord, |
| for they themselves have arisen |
| from their glum quarters and tight little houses, |
| from bondage to their trade and labor, |
| from their oppressive roofs and gables, |
| from the crush of narrow alleyways, |
| and from the solemn night of churches; |
| they have all been brought into the light. |
| Look! Look, how nimbly the crowd |
930 | sallies and scatters through gardens and fields, |
| how the river moves its many skiffs |
| happily down its winding way, |
| and how the last of all these drifting barges |
| is over-brimming with its merry load. |
| And even from the mountain’s far-off trails |
| comes the glitter of bright garments. |
| Now I hear the hum and bustle of the village. |
| This is the people’s proper paradise; |
| they shout and revel—great and small: |
940 | I’m human here, here I can be! |
| To stroll about with you, O master, |
| brings me much honor and much gain; |
| yet I should never come up here alone, |
| because I hate all forms of vulgar entertainment. |
| The fiddling, the shrieking, the rolling bowling balls, |
| all this is hateful noise to me. |
| The people rage as if the fiend possessed them |
| and then they call it happiness and song. |
| ( PEASANTS under the Linden Tree .) |
| A Song and a Dance |
| In jacket, ribbon, fancy vest, |
950 | The shepherd boy was at his best |
| And joined the crowd to dance. |
| Beneath the linden tree they whirled; |
| Round and round they jumped and twirled; |
| Hurray, hurrah, |
| Tralala, hop-ho! |
| So went the fiddle bow. |
| He thrust himself into the crush |
| And with his elbow he did touch |
| The maiden with his knee. |
960 | The jolly girl was not so coy |
| And said to him, “You silly boy!” |
| Hurray, hurrah, |
| Tralala, hop-ho, |
| “Don’t be so fresh with me.” |
| And in a circle went the race, |
| To right and left at quickened pace, |
| The petticoats a-flying. |
| Their faces flushed, their cheeks were warm, |
| They rested panting, arm in arm. |
970 | Hurray, hurrah, |
| Tralala, hop-ho, |
| Their bodies were aglow. |
| “You’re much too intimate with me! |
| In you and all the rest I see |
| How men deceive their women.” |
| But off he whirled her to the side |
| Amidst the shouting far and wide. |
| Hurray, hurrah, |
| Tralala, hop-ho, |
980 | So went the fiddle bow. |
| Doctor, it is good of you |
| not to disdain us on this day |
| and as a deeply learned man |
| walk with us in this jostling crowd. |
| Please accept this handsome pitcher |
| filled this day for you to quaff. |
| I say, for everyone to hear, |
| “May it more than quench your thirst. |
| May the sum of drops contained therein |
990 | be added to your days.” |
| I accept this wholesome drink |
| and thank you kindly for your wishes. |
| ( The people form a circle around him .) |
| We think it very fine of you |
| to be with us this festive day; |
| I remember how in times of trouble |
| you always proved a friend to us. |
| Many of us live today |
| because your father snatched us in the nick of time |
| from the fever’s burning rage |
1000 | when he stayed the plague at last. |
| And you, then still a youngish man, |
| entered every stricken home, |
| and though they buried many bodies, |
| you always came out whole and well. |
| You overcame the harshest trials; |
| our helper’s help came from the Lord in Heaven. |
| Good health to our worthy friend; |
| long may he live and stand by us! |