|
|
|
|
Prometheus (Goethe)
|
| |
|
| |
Prometheus is a poem by Johann Wolfgang Goethe, in which the character of the mythic Prometheus addresses God (as Zeus) in misotheist accusation and defiance.
In early editions of the Collected Works it appeared in Volume II of Goethe's poems in a section of Vermischte Gedichte (assorted poems), shortly following the Gesang der Geister über den Wassern, and the Harzreise im Winter.
Discussion
Ask a question about 'Prometheus (Goethe)' Start a new discussion about 'Prometheus (Goethe)' Answer questions from other users |
Encyclopedia
Prometheus is a poem by Johann Wolfgang Goethe, in which the character of the mythic Prometheus addresses God (as Zeus) in misotheist accusation and defiance.
In early editions of the Collected Works it appeared in Volume II of Goethe's poems in a section of Vermischte Gedichte (assorted poems), shortly following the Gesang der Geister über den Wassern, and the Harzreise im Winter. It is immediately followed by the Ganymed, and the two poems together should be understood as a pair. Both belong to the period 1770-1775. Prometheus (1774) was planned as a drama but not completed, but this poem draws upon it. Prometheus is the creative and rebellious spirit which, rejected by God, angrily defies him and asserts itself; Ganymede is the boyish self which is adored and seduced by God. One is the lone defiant, the other the yielding accolyte. As the humanist poet, Goethe presents both identities as aspects or forms of the human condition.
Although the 'setting' is classical, the address to the Judaeo-Christian God is suggested by the section beginning 'Da ich ein Kind war...' (When I was a child): the use of 'Da' is distinctive, and by it Goethe evokes the Lutheran translation of Saint Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians, 13.11: 'Da ich ein Kind war, da redete ich wie ein Kind...' (When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things). Unlike St Paul, Goethe's Prometheus grew up to disbelieve in the divine heart moved to pity for the afflicted.
The poem was set to music by Schubert and by Hugo Wolf.
Text
| Original German | English Translation |
|---|
Bedecke deinen Himmel, Zeus,
Mit Wolkendunst
Und übe, dem Knaben gleich,
Der Disteln köpft,
An Eichen dich und Bergeshöhn;
Mußt mir meine Erde
Doch lassen stehn
Und meine Hütte, die du nicht gebaut,
Und meinen Herd,
Um dessen Glut
Du mich beneidest.
Ich kenne nichts Ärmeres
Unter der Sonn als euch, Götter!
Ihr nähret kümmerlich
Von Opfersteuern
Und Gebetshauch
Eure Majestät
Und darbtet, wären
Nicht Kinder und Bettler
Hoffnungsvolle Toren.
Da ich ein Kind war,
Nicht wußte, wo aus noch ein,
Kehrt ich mein verirrtes Auge
Zur Sonne, als wenn drüber wär
Ein Ohr, zu hören meine Klage,
Ein Herz wie meins,
Sich des Bedrängten zu erbarmen.
Wer half mir
Wider der Titanen Übermut?
Wer rettete vom Tode mich,
Von Sklaverei?
Hast du nicht alles selbst vollendet,
Heilig glühend Herz?
Und glühtest jung und gut,
Betrogen, Rettungsdank
Dem Schlafenden da droben?
Ich dich ehren? Wofür?
Hast du die Schmerzen gelindert
Je des Beladenen?
Hast du die Tränen gestillet
Je des Geängsteten?
Hat nicht mich zum Manne geschmiedet
Die allmächtige Zeit
Und das ewige Schicksal,
Meine Herrn und deine?
Wähntest du etwa,
Ich sollte das Leben hassen,
In Wüsten fliehen,
Weil nicht alle
Blütenträume reiften?
Hier sitz ich, forme Menschen
Nach meinem Bilde,
Ein Geschlecht, das mir gleich sei,
Zu leiden, zu weinen,
Zu genießen und zu freuen sich,
Und dein nicht zu achten,
Wie ich! |
Shroud your heaven, Zeus,
With cloudy vapours,
And do as you will, like the boy
That knocks the heads off thistles,
With oak-trees and mountain-tops;
Now you must leave alone
My Earth for Me,
And my hut, which you did not build,
And my hearth,
The glowing whereof
You envy me.
I know of nothing poorer
Under the sun, than you, you Gods!
Your majesty
Is barely nourished
By sacrificial offerings
And prayerful exhalations,
And should starve
Were children and beggars not
Fools full of Hope.
When I was a child,
And did not know the in or out,
I turned my wandering eyes toward
The sun, as if, beyond, there were
An ear to hear my lament,
A heart, like mine,
To be moved to pity for the afflicted.
Who helped me
Against the pride of the Titans?
Who delivered me from Death,
From Slavery?
Did you not accomplish it all yourself,
My holy, burning Heart?
And shone, young and good,
Deceived, your thanks for salvation
To the sleeping one above?
Should I honour you? Why?
Have you softened the sufferings,
Ever, of the burdened?
Have you stilled the tears,
Ever, of the anguished?
Was I not forged as a Man
By almighty Time
And eternal Fate,
My masters and thine?
Do you somehow imagine
That I should hate Life,
Flee to the desert,
Because not every
Flowering dream should bloom?
Here I sit, I form humans
After my own image;
A race, to be like me,
To sorrow, to weep,
To enjoy and delight itself,
And to heed you not at all -
Like Me! |
Source
- J.W. Goethe, Goethe's Werke: Vollstandige Ausgabe letzter Hand (Vol II, 76-78). (J.G. Cotta'schen Buchhandlung, Stuttgart und Tubingen 1827).
- J.W. Goethe, Gedichte (Aufbau-Verlag, Berlin u. Tübingen 1988)
- Dr Martin Luther, Die Bibel, oder die ganze Heilige Schrift des Alten und Neuen Testaments.
|
| |
|
|
