Rudolf Steiner Archive 

Calendar of the Soul

Northern Hemisphere
Week 26

O Nature, your maternal life
I bear within the essence of my will.
And my will's fiery energy
Shall steel my spirit striving,
That sense of self springs forth from it
To hold me in myself.

Southern Hemisphere
Week 52

When from the depths of soul
The spirit turns to the life of worlds
And beauty wells from wide expanses,
Then out of heaven's distances
Streams life-strength into human bodies,
Uniting by its mighty energy
The spirit's being with our human life.

—Translation by Ruth and Hans Pusch

See GA 40 for full calendar and German text.

Nature and Our Ideals
GA 30

Die Natur

Mit ehemen Banden haelt
Und kettet an Staub mid Verwesung
Natur, Deine Zeug'rin Dich fest;
Natur, das lockende Ungeheuer,
Bald laecheind und sonnengoldig
Zu wuetender Daseinsfreude Dich spornend, bald
Entsetzen und Not gebaerend,
Mit der Rute des Jammers Dich peitschend,
Doch immer vemichtend und raetselhaft, immer
Medusa und Sphinx zugleich.

Durch Deine Pulse jagt
Und rast in fiebernden Takten
Ihr unbarmherz'ges Gesetz,
Das ew'ge Gesetz der Zerstoerung;
Sie gab Dir Wille und Kraft,
Dich selbst zu vernichten — Dich selbst
Zu retten, aber vermagst Du nie und nimmer!
An ihrem Triumphwagen zieh'n
Wir Alle: keuchend, schweizbetrieft und dennoch
Auch selig: denn als Fata Morgana schaukelt
Die Hoffnung vor uns und das Buch, undjegliches Blendwerk,
Das uns zum Hohn sie geschaffen,
Und wir, das sehnsuchtvergiftete Sklavenheer,
Ideale nennen. — So stuermen in lechzender Eile
Und toller Jagd wir dahin, bis tueckisch
Die Kraft uns verlaesst, der Odem schwindet und ferner
Denn je unser Ziel auf goldigen Wolken schwebt,
Bis hilflos und keuchend wir
Zusammenbrechen — dann jauchzt daemonisch sie auf,
Dann ruft sie ihr grausames, “Evoe!” und lenkt
Zermalmend ueber tausend Opfer hinweg
Die ehernen Speichen ihrer Biga ...

— Marie Eugenie delle Grazie

Nature

With iron bonds Nature, your procreator
Holds and chains you fast to dust and decay.
Nature, the luring monster, smiling, sun golden,
one moment spurning you on to furious joy of being,
but soon bearing horror and want,
whipping you with the switch of misery,
always destroying and also cryptic,
always Medusa and Sphinx in one.

Through your pulse races and chases in feverish beat
her merciless law,
the eternal law of destruction.
She gave you the will and the force to destroy yourself,
— but to save yourself — this you can never, ever do!

We are all pulling her triumphal chariot —
panting, drenched with sweat and yet in bliss:
because Hope and happiness and every kind of delusion
are swinging as mirages in front of us,
created for us, to mock us:
and we, the army of slaves, poisoned by longing,
call them Ideals —

Thus we storm ahead in languishing haste and mad pursuit
until treacherously, strength abandons us.
The Life Breath dwindles, and farther away than ever
Our goal hovers on gilded clouds,
until helpless and panting, we break down —
Then she cheers demonically! Then she calls out
her cruel “Evoe!” and reins
the brazen spokes of her Biga on,
crushing thousands of victims ...

— Revised translation by Michael Finn.

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