From a Letter

(The Sun speaks.)

What have my glances to do with thee?
'Tis the right of the sun, since time began,
To shine upon master alike and man.
I am bright, for bright I needs must be.

What have my glances to do with thee?
Get thee a wife and rear a brood;
Live as an honest German should;
Turn to thy duties and let me be.

I am bright, for bright I needs must be;
I wander in heaven to and fro,
'Tis only when weary I look below.
What have my glances to do with thee?

(The Poet speaks.)

That I have borne those glances flung:
The blinding charm, the flaming bliss,
The light with soul for ever young:
And have not quailed, my virtue is.

But now my gaze, that long was bold,
Is weary of its heavenward quest,
And eve her darkling veil doth fold
Around mine eyelids fain for rest.

(Chorus of Apes.)

We apes, we apes.
How each of us gapes
And stares at the sun,
Who, though so high, can hinder none.

(Chorus of Frogs.)

In the water 'tis wetter,
'Tis wetter and better
Than on the earth.
With frolic and mirth,
We delight in
The sun and his glances that brighten.

(Chorus of Moles.)

Was ever nonsense heard to match
This of the sun, with his glance and glow?
A genial itch is all we know,
And when we feel it — why, we scratch.

(A Glowworm speaks.)

How self-important is the sun,
Whose glory with the day is done.
I am not half so proud and vain,
And yet to all my splendour's plain
By night, by night!
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Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
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