The Boundaries Of Humanity.

When the primeval     All-holy Father     Sows with a tranquil hand     From clouds, as they roll,     Bliss-spreading lightnings     Over the earth,     Then do I kiss the last     Hem of his garment,     While by a childlike awe     Fiil'd is my breast.     For with immortals     Ne'er may a mortal     Measure himself.     If he soar upwards     And if he touch     With his forehead the stars,     Nowhere will rest then     His insecure feet,     And with him sport     Tempest and cloud.     Though with firm sinewy     Limbs he may stand     On the enduring     Well-grounded earth,     All he is ever     Able to do,     Is to resemble     The oak or the vine.     Wherein do gods     Differ from mortals?     In that the former     See endless billows     Heaving before them;     Us doth the billow     Lift up and swallow,     So that we perish.     Small is the ring     Enclosing our life,     And whole generations     Link themselves firmly     On to existence's     Chain never-ending.