''Chidher''

CHIDHER

Friedrich Rückert

Chidher, the ever youthful, told:
      I passed a city, bright to see;
A man was culling fruits of gold,
      I asked him how old this town might be.
He answered, culling as before:
"This town stood ever in days of yore,
And will stand on forevermore!"
      Five hundred years from yonder day
      I passed again the selfsame way,

And of the town I found no trace;
      A shepherd blew on a reed instead;
His herd was grazing on the place.
      "How long," I asked, "is the city dead?"
He answered, blowing as before:
"The new crop grows the old one o'er,
This was my pasture evermore!"
      Five hundred years from yonder day
      I passed again the selfsame way.

A sea I found, the tide was full,
      A sailor emptied nets with cheer;
And when he rested from his pull,
      I asked how long that sea was here.
Then laughed he with a hearty roar:
"As long as waves have washed this shore
They fished here ever in days of yore."
      Five hundred years from yonder day
      I passed again the selfsame way.

I found a forest settlement,
      And o'er his axe, a tree to fell,
I saw a man in labor bent.
      How old this wood I bade him tell.
"'Tis everlasting, long before
I lived it stood in days of yore,"
He quoth; "and shall grow evermore."
      Five hundred years from yonder day
      I passed again the selfsame way.

I saw a town; the market-square
      Was swarming with a noisy throng.
"How long," I asked, "has this town been there?
      Where are wood and sea and shepherd's song?"
They cried, nor heard among the roar:
"This town was ever so before,
And so will live forevermore!"
      Five hundred years from yonder day
      I want to pass the selfsame way.

1824


-trans. Margarete Münsterberg

(Illustration is Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: Desolation, 1833-36.)