To Charlotte von Stein

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Why confer on us the piercing vision:
All tomorrow vivid in our gaze?
Not a chance to build on love’s illusion?
Not a glimmer of idyllic days?
Why confer on us, O fate, the feeling
Each can plumb the other’s very heart?
Always, though in storms of passion reeling,
See precisely what a course we chart?

Look at all those many thousands drudging
(Knowing even their own nature less
Than we know each other), thousands trudging,
In the dark about their own distress;
Drunk on exultation, when they’re treated
Suddenly to joy’s magenta dawn.
Only we unlucky lovers, cheated
Of all mutual comfort, have foregone
This: to be in love, not understanding;
This: to see the other as he’s not;
Off in gaudy dreams go hand-in-handing,
In appalling dreams turn cold and hot.

Happy man, a fleeting dream engages!
Happy man, no premonitions numb!
We, however—! All our looks and touches
Reaffirm our sense of days to come.
Tell me, what’s our destiny preparing?
Tell me, how we’re bound in such a knot?
From an old existence we were sharing?
You’re the wife, the sister I forgot?