By Hans Christian Andersen.
Translated by Mary Howitt.
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William Lovett) vol.2 #32 (07 Aug 1847).
Wenn die unbekannte Hand den letzten Pfeil an das Haupt des Menschen sendet, so bückt er vorher das Haupt, und der Pfeil hebt bloss die Dornen-krone von seinen Wunden ab.—
JEAN PAUL.
What can it be that shines so? it purifies my sight;
I feel my eyes are opened in the glory of this light;
Before the strength within my soul my head bows like a reed,
And from each bond of meaner kind my heart is gently freed.
In death wings plume our shoulders, so did our youth believe;
Yes, then the wings which lift from change our panting souls receive.
Amid the starry systems, beyond earth's farthest reach,
I see a godhead's greatness surpassing human speech,
I see a vast eternity in all, even in my heart;
And every cloud dissolves in light as this world's shores depart.
Now for the first time can I read my brother's heart aright;
We all of us are poor and weak, but none are evil quite.
Oh, if we could, while yet on earth, as plainly others know,
As we are known unto ourselves, we should not grieve them so!
In great things and in small alike myself I truly scan,
But 'tis in death that first we learn to know our brother man!
—My faith is clear, I am so light, am of such bliss possessed,—
I feel a strife, an impulse, and yet a heavenly rest!