The Prose Writings of Heinrich HeineHeine, Heinrich
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The Prose Writings of Heinrich Heine
Heine, Heinrich
Heine, Heinrich, 1797-1856 -- Translations into English
Unfortunately, Madame, this nightingale song is far too long to be set
down here; it is as long as the world itself, even its dedication to
Anangas, the God of Love, is as long as all Scott's novels, and there is
a passage referring to it in Aristophanes, which in German[5] reads
thus:--
"Tiotio, tiotio, tiotinx,
Totototo totototo tototinx."
(Voss's _Translation._)
No, I was not born in India. I first beheld the light of the world on
the shores of that beautiful stream, in whose green hills folly grows
and is plucked in Autumn, laid away in cellars, poured into barrels, and
exported to foreign lands. In fact, only yesterday I heard some one
speaking a piece of folly which, in the year 1811, was imprisoned in a
bunch of grapes, which I myself then saw growing on the Johannisburg.
But much folly is also consumed at home, and men are the same there as
everywhere: they are born, eat, drink, sleep, laugh, cry, slander each
other, are greatly troubled about the propagation of their race, try to
seem what they are not and to do what they cannot, never shave until
they have a beard, and often have beards before they get discretion, and
when they at last have discretion, they drink it away in white and red
folly.
_Mon dieu!_ if I had faith, so that I could remove mountains--the
Johannisburg would be just the mountain which I would carry with me
everywhere. But as my faith is not strong enough, imagination must aid
me, and she quickly sets me by the beautiful Rhine.
Oh, that is a fair land, full of loveliness and sunshine. In the blue
stream are mirrored the mountain shores, with their ruined towers, and
woods, and ancient towns. There, before the house-door, sit the good
townspeople, of a summer evening, and drink out of great cans, and
gossip confidentially about how the wine--the Lord be praised!--thrives,
and how justice should be free from all secrecy, and how Marie
Antoinette's being guillotined is none of our business, and how dear the
tobacco tax makes tobacco, and how all mankind are equal, and what a
glorious fellow Goerres is.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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