The Prose Writings of Heinrich HeineHeine, Heinrich
General
The Prose Writings of Heinrich Heine
Heine, Heinrich
Heine, Heinrich, 1797-1856 -- Translations into English
Others may, if they choose, enjoy the good fortune of having their
lady-love adorn their graves with garlands and water them with the tears
of fidelity. Oh, women! hate me, laugh at me, jilt me--but let me live!
Life is all too laughably sweet, and the world too delightfully
bewildered; it is the dream of an intoxicated god, who has taken French
leave of the carousing multitude of immortals, and has laid himself down
to sleep in a solitary star, and knows not himself that he creates all
that he dreams--and the dream images form themselves in such a mad
variegated fashion, and often so harmoniously reasonable--the Iliad,
Plato, the battle of Marathon, Moses, Medician Venus, Strasburg
Cathedral, the French Revolution, Hegel, the steamboat, etc., etc., are
single good thoughts in this divine dream--but it will not last long,
and the god awakes and rubs his sleepy eyes, and smiles--and our world
has run to nothing--yes, has never been.
No matter! I live. If I am but a shadowy image in a dream, still this is
better than the cold, black, void annihilation of Death. Life is the
greatest good and death the worst evil. Berlin lieutenants of the guard
may sneer and call it cowardice, because the Prince of Homburg shudders
when he beholds his open grave. Henry Kleist[4] had, however, as much
courage as his high-breasted, tightly-laced colleagues, and has, alas!
proved it. But all strong men love life. Goethe's Egmont does not part
willingly from "the cheerful wont of being and working." Immermann's
Edwin clings to life "like a little child to its mother's breast," and
though he finds it hard to live by stranger mercy, he still begs for
mercy: "For life and breath is still the highest."
When Odysseus in the under-world sees Achilles as the leader of dead
heroes, and extols his renown among the living, and his glory even among
the dead, Achilles answers:--
"No more discourse of death, consolingly, noble Odysseus!
Rather would I in the field as daily labourer be toiling,
Slave to the meanest of men, a pauper and lacking possessions,
Than mid the infinite host of long-vanished mortals be ruler."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account