I once again look back to the time
Now so remote, when my beloved
Nation was deep in Strombolian
Eruptions of philosophical ideals.
I was then coming of age as a Man
Of letters and poet laureate.
I aspired, as it were, to emulate
The hegemon of the Romantic period-
Whose range and accomplishments
Made him a demi-god and the Muses’ Chosen.
He was no other than Johann Von Goethe:
My fraternal twin and noble friend indeed.
I lived long ago before Germany
Powerful assertions could rise to the fore.
I was a dramatist, a magus of great renown.
My limpid words shaped the course of England’s
Rise to pre-eminence and my name still resonate
In hearts of millions who extol genius.
My Tragedies reveal depth of spirit.
Not empty epideictic tinsels that pall the minds.
It was an herculean struggle to mint
My Meisterwerk, and before my spirit’s eye
The Teuton hero rose out of the mists of time.
Wallenstein! Archon of Bohemia!
I laboured hard to cement my legacy-
To become Germany’s leading dramaturge
Was for me the incessant quest to attain
Supreme blessedness of the Holy Spirit.
Many nights, beset by bodily afflictions,
I toiled in my study but not in vain.
Melpomene’s laurel I at last had won.
Two scores and a dozen years the three Norns
Allotted to me I spent in fulfillment
Of my craft. I became World-dramaturge
I am still the world’s most revered dramatist.
Poetaster I certainly wasn’t.
I drank my fill from Aganippe Spring