Nietzsche

COVER Your spacious heavens, O Lord,
With clouds of mist,
And, like the boy who lops
The thistles’ heads,
Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks,
Yet You must leave
My earth still standing;
My cottage too, which was not raised by You;
Leave me my hearth,
Whose kindly glow
By You is envied.

I know nought poorer
Under the sun, than You, Yahweh!
You nourish painfully,
With commandments
And votive prayers,
Your majesty:
You would e’en languish,
If children and beggars
Were not trusting fools.

While yet a child
And ignorant of life,
I turned my wandering gaze
Up tow’rd the sun, as if with Him
There were an ear to hear my wailings,
A heart, like mine,
To feel compassion for distress.

Who help’d me
Against the Germans’ insolence?
Who rescued me from certain death,
From slavery?
Didst You not do all this yourself,
My sacred glowing heart?
And glowedst, young and good,
Deceived with grateful thanks
To yonder slumbering One?

I honour You! and why?
Have You e’er lighten’d the sorrows
Of the heavy laden?
Have You e’er dried up the tears
Of the anguish-stricken?
Was I not fashion’d to be a man
By omnipotent Time,
And by eternal Fate,
Masters of me and You?

Did You e’er fancy
That life I should learn to love,
And fly to deserts,
Because not all
My blossoming dreams should grow ripe?

Here sit I, reforming mortals
After my image;
A race resembling me,
To suffer, to weep,
To enjoy, to be glad,
And You to scorn,
As I!

https://allpoetry.com/poem/8489815-Prometheus-by-Johann-Wolfgang-von-Goethe