HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

28 l^etne*
THE DELIGHT OF LIVING.
Let others enjoy the happiness of the
loved one wreathing their tombstone
with flowers and moistening it with
faithful tears. 0 women! hate me,
laugh at me, mock me, but let me live !
Life is all too merrily sweet and the
world is all too lovingly confused. It is
the dream of a wine-drunk divinity,
who has slipped out without leave-taking
from the symposium of the gods and
has laid himself to sleep in a lonesome
star, and knows not that he himself
creates all that he dreams. His dreampictures
take, now madly mingled
shapes, now shapes harmoniously reasonable—
the Iliad, Plato, the Battle
of Marathon, Moses, the Venus de
Medici, Strasburg Cathedral, the French
Revolution, Hegel, Steamboats, are individual
happy thoughts in this creating
god-dream; but it will not last long. The
god will awake, will rub his drowsy
eyes, will laugh, and our world will relapse
into nothingness, nay, it will not
even have existed.
LISZT S PLAYING.
The keys seemed to bleed.