The soul of man

Resembleth water:

From heaven it cometh,

To heaven it soareth.

And then again

To earth descendeth,

Changing ever.

 

Down from the lofty

Rocky wall

Streams the bright flood,

Then spreadeth gently

In cloudy billows

O'er the smooth rock,

And welcomed kindly,

Veiling, on roams it,

Soft murmuring,

Tow'rd the abyss.

 

Cliffs projecting

Oppose its progress,--

Angrily foams it

Down to the bottom,

Step by step.

 

Now, in flat channel,

Through the meadowland steals it,

And in the polish'd lake

Each constellation

Joyously peepeth.

 

Wind is the loving

Wooer of waters;

Wind blends together

Billows all-foaming.

 

Spirit of man,

Thou art like unto water!

Fortune of man,

Thou art like unto wind!