Novalis: Hymns to the Night (1)
"...Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world sunk in a deep grave waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?
What springs up all at once so sweetly boding in my heart, and stills the soft air of sadness? Dost thou also take a pleasure in us, dark Night? What holdest thou under thy mantle, that with hidden power affects my soul? Precious balm drips from thy hand out of its bundle of poppies... More heavenly than those glittering stars we hold the eternal eyes which the Night hath opened within us. Farther they see than the palest of those countless hosts needing no aid from the light, they penetrate the depths of a loving soul that fills a loftier region with bliss ineffable. Glory to the queen of the world, to the great prophet of the holier worlds, to the guardian of blissful love she sends thee to me thou tenderly beloved the gracious sun of the Night, now am I awake for now am I thine and mine thou hast made me know the Night made of me a man consume with spirit-fire my body, that I, turned to finer air, may mingle more closely with thee, and then our bridal night endure forever."
What springs up all at once so sweetly boding in my heart, and stills the soft air of sadness? Dost thou also take a pleasure in us, dark Night? What holdest thou under thy mantle, that with hidden power affects my soul? Precious balm drips from thy hand out of its bundle of poppies... More heavenly than those glittering stars we hold the eternal eyes which the Night hath opened within us. Farther they see than the palest of those countless hosts needing no aid from the light, they penetrate the depths of a loving soul that fills a loftier region with bliss ineffable. Glory to the queen of the world, to the great prophet of the holier worlds, to the guardian of blissful love she sends thee to me thou tenderly beloved the gracious sun of the Night, now am I awake for now am I thine and mine thou hast made me know the Night made of me a man consume with spirit-fire my body, that I, turned to finer air, may mingle more closely with thee, and then our bridal night endure forever."
The unspeakable secrets of the Queen of the Night
The Holy face of the Goddess
