Volume 4 — FRIEDRICH HÖLDERLIN

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HYPERION'S SONG OF FATE [36] (1799)

Ye wander there in the light On flower-soft fields, ye blest immortal Spirits. Radiant godlike zephyrs Touch you as gently As the hand of a master might Touch the awed lute-string. Free of fate as the slumbering Infant, breathe the divine ones. Guarded well In the firm-sheathed bud Blooms eternal Each happy soul; And their rapture-lit eyes Shine with a tranquil Unchanging lustre. But we, 'tis our portion, We never may be at rest. They stumble, they vanish, The suffering mortals, Hurtling from one hard Hour to another, Like waves that are driven From cliff-side to cliff-side, Endlessly down the uncertain abyss.