The Holy Longing - Goethe

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Tell a wise person, or else keep silent,

Because the mass-man will mock it right away...

I praise what is truly alive,

What longs to be burned to death.

 

In the calm water of love nights,

Where you were begotten, where you have begotten,

A strange feeling comes over you

When you see the silent candle burning.

 

Now you are no longer caught

In the obsession with darkness,

And a desire for higher love making

Sweeps you upward.

 

Distance does not make you falter,

Now arriving in magic, flying,

And, finally insane for the light,

You are the butterfly and you are gone.

 

And so long as you haven't experienced

This to die and so to grow,

You are only a troubled guest

on the dark earth.