Dissatisfaction. Translated From Theodore Körner
“Composed as I stood sentinel on the banks of the Elbe.”
Fatherland! Thou call’st the singer
In the blissful glow of day;
He no more can musing linger,
While thou dost mourn a tyrant’s sway.
Love and poesy forsaking,
From friendship’s magic circle breaking,
The keenest pangs he could endure
Thy peace to insure.
Yet sometimes tears must dim his eyes,
As, on the melodious bridge of song,
The shadows of past joys arise,
And in mild beauty round him throng.
In vain, o’er life, that early beam
Such radiance shed;—the impetuous stream
Of strife has seized him, onward borne,
While left behind his loved ones mourn.
Here in the crowd must he complain,
Nor find a fit employ?
Give him poetic place again,
Or the quick throb of warlike joy.
The wonted inspiration give;
Thus languidly he cannot live;
Love’s accents are no longer near;
Let him the trumpet hear.
Where is the cannon’s thunder?
The clashing cymbals, where?
While foreign foes our cities plunder,
Can we not hasten there?
I can no longer watch this stream;
In prose I die! O source of flame!
O poesy! for which I glow,—
A nobler death thou shouldst bestow!