Rush toward them, but the joy is too bright, too blinding,
And man shies away, even a demigod hardly knows
What to call them, they who approach him with gifts.
But great is the courage they bring, their joys fill
His heart, he hardly knows what to make of this wealth;
He fiddles around and he wastes it, almost thinking the unholy holy,
That which he kindly and foolishly touches with his blessing hand.
The heavenly bear this as much as they can; but they
Themselves then come in truth, and men grow accustomed to joy
And the day and beholding those manifest, the faces of those
Who were named long ago the One and the All, and who
Filled the silent breasts deeply with contentment so free,
And were first and alone to satisfy every desire.
Thus is man; when the wealth is there, and a god himself
Provides him with gifts, he won't see it and remains unaware.
First he must bear it; now, though, he names what is dearest,
Now he needs words, words that bloom forth like flowers."
Friedrich Hölderlin, Bread and Wine stanza 5, trans. Nick Hoff
