Who never ate his bread with tears,
He who never spent his sorrowful nights
Sat on his bed weeping,
He knows you not, ye heavenly powers.
You lead us into life,
You make the poor man guilty,
Then you leave him to his torment:
For all guilt is avenged on earth.
To him the morning sun’s light dyes
The pure horizon with flames,
And over his guilty head
The beautiful picture of the whole world collapses.
(J. W. v. Goethe)