måndag 17 Okt 2011, 13:10

Nature! we are involved and wrapped by her, we aren't unable to get out or penetrate more deeply in her. Without be requested and without notify us, she crawl us in her twister dance, moving us until we fall tired in her arms

She eternally creates new forms, the time here never existed before and never will exist again. All is new, nevertheless always old.

We live in her breast but she don't recognize us. She continually speaks with us but she don't reveal her secret. We play constantly over her and however we can't get any power over her.

She seems to addressed everything in the individuality and she don't care at all the individuals. She always make and always destroy and her works is approachless.

She lives all in her children, but the mother, where is her? She's only artist that reach the greatest contrast since simple matter and she rise until the major perfection without any effort appearance, until the rigorous determination, always impregnated of some delicacy -. Each one of her works has an own essence, anyone of her manifestations have the concept more isolated, however making an only one.

She sings a drama: we don't know if she looks that drama by herself, but she sing for us, the beholders sit in a corner.

She has eternal life, an eternal becoming, a perpetual motion and however she doesn't step forward. She eternally becomes and there isn't in her any moment of stillness. She doesn't mean the stop and her damnation falls on the inmobility. She's straight her step is measured, her exceptions are strange and her laws are invariable.

She thinks and meditates constantly, but not like a men, just like nature. She reserves her own embracing meaning, that nobody takes.

The men is all in her and she is in everybody. Nature carry out a friendly game with everyone and she is only happy as long she's overcomed. With a lot of ones her game is so secret that they finish it before they know it.

The most denatured is nature too, also the deepest philistinism has something of her genie. Who don't see her in overall, don't see her in anywhere in a righteous way.

She loves herself and get innumerables eyes and hearts that still watch her. She separates from herself for could enjoy. She ever makes to born another creatures that enjoy her in their insantiable wish to communicate.

The illusion is her indulge, and who destroy that illusion in itself and in the others are punish by nature such as the worst tyrant.

Her offspring are countless. In general, she isn't greedy with anyone, but she has her favorites with her lavish and sacrifice. The big ones are over her protection.

She rise her creatures from nothing, and she say them neither where they from nor where they go. They just must run, she knows the way.

She has few springs but they aren't inert but ever alive and multiform.

Her drama is always new, because always she creates new beholders. Life is her beautiest finding and the death just a strategy to obtain more life.

She involve the man in darkness and eternally push it into the light. She does them dependent from the ground, goofy and serious, but always she does it react.

She creates necesities because she likes the movement; the marvelous is that she obtain too motion with so limited means. Each necesity is a benefit: such as is satisfy is soon again to created. That state a new source of pleasure by does that it been the maximum, but followed the nature recover the equilibrium. In each time her gaze is directed too far away and in each instant it's in the goal.

She's the vanity in itself, but not like us becoming it in the most important thing

You allow that children enjoy with her, let that fools stand over her, and that a thousand ones hit against her without at least know it; she obtain hapiness from everyone and with everyone she does her accounts.

To her laws we obey even when we fight against it, we also play with nature when we want to play against her.

All that she gives she turn in her own benefit, 'casue she does it indispensable before. She induces to we wish her and she runaway for that we never are satiate.

She has no language, no speech, but she creates tongues and hearts through which she feels and speaks.

Her crown is the love. Just through love we close to her. She dig holes between us but we expect to stand together. She has isolated everything for join everything. With a couple of drinks from the love cup she reward an all life's torment

She is everything. She reward and punish herself, she is happy and tortured. She's rude and sweet, weak and omnipotent. Everything's within her. She knows neither past nor future. The present is her eternity. She's benevolent and I obey her with all her works. She's astute, but with good aims and is better don't make sense of that. Is everything but never completed. That she does it today, she does it forever.

To each one she appears with a singular shape. She hides under a thousand of names and terms but ever she's the same.

Such as she gives me a show, she get me out. But I trust in her. She could do with me that she want to. She don't hate her own work. I don't speak of the nature. No, she has already said the true and the false. All is her fault so all is her merit too.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I recommend read the original version from Goethe, because these translations from german texts are subject to misinterpretation and misuderstandings