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Harpist

Harpist

Who never ate his bread with tears,
Who never seen the sorrowful nights
Weeping sat on his bed,
He doesn’t know you, you heavenly powers.

You lead us into life,
You make the poor guilty,
Then you leave them to the torment::
For all iniquity is avenged on earth.

To him the morning sun colors light
The pure horizon with flames,
And above his guilty head breaks down
The beautiful picture of the whole world together.

(J. W. v. Goethe)

 

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