Siddhartha: A Novel

Author: Goethe (J. W. V. Goethe)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-03-01
Features: On May 10th, an incomparably wondrous joy permeated my entire soul, just as I wholeheartedly admired this sweet spring morning. Here I alone enjoy the joy of life, a place created just for souls like mine. My dear friend, I am truly blessed, completely immersed in the quiet pleasures, and my art cannot flourish. I cannot paint now, not even a single stroke, yet I have never experienced a greater painter's life than at this very moment. When mist rises from the beautiful mountain gorge, the sun hangs high above the dense forest, with only a few rays of sunlight sneaking into the depths of the shade, I am still by the babbling brook, lying in the deep grass, close to the ground, admiring the myriad shapes and varieties of the grasses; I feel my heart closer to the bustling little world among the grasses, closer to the countless insects and gnats of various forms, and at this moment, I sense the existence of the Almighty God, who created us in His own image, and I feel the breath of the God of universal love, who supports us as we soar in eternal joy. My friend! When twilight fills my sight, the world seeps into my soul, as if the image of a lover is reflected within, I often yearn with longing, pondering deeply: Oh, the scenes that move within my heart are so rich and tender, I wish you could freely express them on paper, they would become a mirror of your soul, just as your soul is a mirror of the eternal God. My friend—but I am unable, I am overwhelmed by the majestic divine power of these scenes.
On May 12th, I wonder if there are any enchanting spirits lurking in this area, or if my own marvelous imagination has transformed everything around me into paradise. Just outside the city gate is a clear spring, and I, like Melusine and her sisters, am captivated by it. —You descend a small hill and come to an archway, then walk down twenty steps of stone, and a crystal-clear spring gushes out from the marble rock. A low wall encircles the spring, surrounded by towering trees, their lush green canopy casting a cool and refreshing shade. Everything is pleasing to the eye but also awe-inspiring. I visit there every day for an hour. Young girls come from the town to fetch water, this necessary daily chore, which even the daughters of kings once had to perform. When I sit there in quiet, the scenes of the patriarchal era come vividly to life in my mind: ancestors forging friendships and alliances by the spring, kind spirits fluttering around the clear water and wells. Oh! He who has never experienced the coolness of the spring after a strenuous journey in midsummer will never understand my feelings. The river is the closest thing to him, he knows its ways, swimming up and down with ease. The river carries him forward, while this delicate swimmer also guides the river at will. Soon, he catches up with the beauty far ahead; he embraces her, lifts her out of the water, and carries her on his shoulders. But suddenly, a strong current sweeps them away, taking them far from the small island and the stranded people, until the river opens up again, flowing gently. Only then does he regain his composure, finally escaping all dangers, no longer carried away by the waves, with no time even to think; he