Erotica Romana E-Book

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

• Herausgeber: Phoemixx Classics Ebooks
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 35

Beschreibung

Erotica Romana - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The Roman Elegies (originally published under the title Erotica Romana in Germany, later Römische Elegien) is a cycle of twenty-four poems by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. They reflect Goethe's Italian Journey from 1786 to 1788 and celebrate the sensuality and vigour of Italian and Classical culture. Written mainly after his return to Weimar, they contain poems on many sexual themes, and four of them were suppressed from publication during Goethe's lifetime due to fears of censorship; they were only published in 1914, together with a large body of the Venetian Epigrams, written during his second, shorter travel to Italy in 1790. The elegies are also a loving tribute to Goethe's companion, Christiane Vulpius, whom he met in 1788 on his return from Italy. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German writer and statesman. His works include: four novels; epic and lyric poetry; prose and verse dramas; memoirs; an autobiography; literary and aesthetic criticism; and treatises on botany, anatomy, and colour. In addition, numerous literary and scientific fragments, more than 10,000 letters, and nearly 3,000 drawings by him have survived.

Leseprobe

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Erotica Romana

PUBLISHER NOTES:

Take our Free

Quick Quiz and Find Out Which

Best Side Hustle is ✓Best for You.

✓ VISIT OUR WEBSITE:

→LYFREEDOM.COM ← ← CLICK HERE ←

I

Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms—     As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots:   Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime,     Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today.   You, stand here at my side, good Priapus—albeit from thieves I've     Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.   —Hypocrites, those are the ones! If weakened with shame and bad conscience     One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,   Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,

II

Tell me ye stones and give me O glorious palaces answer.     Speak O ye streets but one word. Genius, art thou alive?   Yes, here within thy sanctified walls there's a soul in each object,     ROMA eternal. For me, only, are all things yet mute.   Who will then tell me in whispers and where must I find just the window     Where one day she'll be glimpsed: creature who'll scorch me with love?   Can't I divine yet the paths through which over and over     To her and from her I'll go, squandering valuable time?   Visiting churches and palaces, all of the ruins and the pillars,     I, a responsible man, profit from making this trip.   With my business accomplished, ah, then shall only one temple,     AMOR's temple alone, take the initiate in.   Rome, thou art a whole world, it is true, and yet without love this     World would not be the world, Rome would cease to be Rome.

III

More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good fortune!     Cupid sagaciously led past those palazzos so fine.   He of course knows very well (and I have also discovered)     What, beneath tapestries rich, gilded boudoirs conceal.   One may if one wishes call him a blind, wanton boy—but I know you,     Clever Cupid, too well! O, incorruptible god!   We were by no means inveigled to enter façades so majestic;     Somber cortilé we passed, balcony high and gallant,   Hastening onward until an humble but exquisite portal     Offered a refuge to both, ardent seeker and guide.   Here he provides me with ev'rything, sees that I get what I call for;     Each day that passes he spreads freshly plucked roses for me.   —Isn't that heaven on earth? Say, beautiful Lady Borghese,     What would you give to me more? —You, Nipotina, what yours?   Banquets and game tables, operas, balls, promenades down the Corso?     These but deprive my sweet boy of his most opportune times.   Finery, haughtiness do not entice me. Does one not lift a     Gown of the finest brocade just as one lifts common wool?   If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,     Doesn't he want her to be free from all brooches and chains?   Must not the jewelry, and then the lace and the bustles and whalebone     All of it come off entire, if he's to learn how she feels?   I encounter no troubles like those. Simple dress of rough homespun,     At but a lover's mere touch, tumbles in folds to the floor.   Quickly he carries the girl as she's clad in chemise of coarse linen—     Just as a nursemaid might, playfully up to her bed.   Drapings of satin are absent; the mattress is quite unembroidered.     Large is this room where the bed offers its comfort for two.   Jupiter's welcome to more from his Juno if he can get it;     Let any mortal find rest, softer, wherever he can.   We are content with Cupid's delights, authentic and naked—

IV

Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging,     High society's lords, ladies so groomed and refined.   "Tell me, was Werther authentic? Did all of that happen in real life?"