Der Mai ist da mit seinen goldnen Lichtern

The May is here with all her golden glamor,
And silken zephyrs and warm, spicy odors.
She lures me, laughing, with her snowy blossoms,
And greets me with the thousand eyes of violets.
She spreads a wide green carpet rich with flowers,
Woven throughout with sun and morning dew;
And thus she calls to all her well-loved mortals.
The pale-faced, shut-in people hear her first;
The men put on their fancy trousers
And Sunday coats with gold and glassy buttons;
The women all wear white — for innocence;
Youths start to train and twirl the vernal mustache;
Young girls begin a heaving of the bosom;
The city poets stuff into their pockets
Pencil and pad and opera-glass! and gladly
The gaily-colored crowds make for the gates,
And camp outside upon the verdant hillsides,
Amazed to see the trees so busily growing;
Playing with sweet and brightly-colored flowers,
Hearing the songs of birds, clear-toned and joyful,
And shouting exultations up to heaven.

May called upon me too. She knocked three times
Upon my door and cried, " I am the May!
Thou pallid dreamer, come, — and I will kiss thee! "
I held my door closed tight, and called to her:
Your lures are all in vain, false visitor.
I have seen through you, May; I have seen through
The world's vast plan — and I have looked too long,
And much too deep; for all my joy has vanished,
And deathless troubles rankle in my heart.
I see right through the hard and stony cover
Of all men's houses and of all men's hearts,
And see in both lies and deceit and torture.
I read men's thoughts by looking at their faces,
Most of them evil. In the blush of maidens
I see the trembling wish beneath the shame;
Upon Youth's proud and visionary head
I see the cap-and-bells of stupid folly;
And twisted phantom-pictures, crazy shadows
Are all I see, — until I scarcely know
If earth's a madhouse or a hospital.

I see right through the earth to its foundations,
As though 'twere crystal, and I see the horrors
That May, with all her green and gladdening cover,
Hides all in vain. I see the dead:
They lie below there in their narrow coffins,
Their still hands folded and their blind eyes open;
White are their robes and whiter still their faces.
And through black lips the yellow worms are crawling.
I see the son sitting beside his mistress,
Taking their pleasure on his father's grave;
The nightingales sing mocking songs around them;
The gentle meadow-flowers grin and chuckle.
Deep in his grave the father stirs and shivers —
And Mother Earth is torn with painful spasms.

Oh Earth, poor Earth, I know your pains and sorrows;
I see the fire raging in your bosom,
I see you bleeding from a thousand veins,
I see your countless wounds torn wide and gaping,
Pouring out streams of flame and smoke and blood.
I see those stark, defiant sons of giants,
Your primal brood, climb from the gloomy chasms
Swinging red torches in their horny hands
They fix their iron ladders to the skies
And rush to storm the citadel of Heaven
Black dwarfs swarm hotly after them; and, crackling,
The golden stars crumble to dust and ashes.
Dark, impious hands tear down the golden curtain
From God's own shrine; and with a frightful shrieking
The holy angels fall upon their faces.
Upon his throne a pale and frightened God
Plucks off his diadem and tears his hair . . .
And still the savage horde draws nearer, nearer.
The giants hurl their rain of blazing torches
Into the vaults of heaven; the dwarfs belabor
The backs of angels with their flaming scourges.
In pain the stricken spirits cringe and cower,
And by the hair they are torn down and vanquished.

And there, I see my own dear angel stand
With her blonde locks, her sweet, inspiring features,
And with eternal love about her lips,
And with great blessings in her great, blue eyes —
When lo, a frightful, black and evil goblin
Tears from the ground my pale and trembling angel
Grinning, he gloats upon her noble beauty,
And clasps her close with tightening embraces . . .

A shriek of horror cleaves the universe,
Its pillars topple, Earth and Heaven crumple
And Night resumes its black and ancient rule.