"Ganymed" is a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, in which the character of the mythic youth Ganymede is seduced by God through the beauty of Spring. In early editions of the Collected Works it appeared in Volume II of Goethe's poems in a section of Vermischte Gedichte, shortly following the "Gesang der Geister über den Wassern", and the Harzreise im Winter. It immediately follows "Prometheus", and the two poems together should be understood as a pair, one expressing the sentiment of divine love, the other misotheism. Both belong to the period 1770 to 1775. Prometheus is the creative and rebellious spirit which, rejected by God, angrily defies him and asserts itself; Ganymede is the boyish self which is adored and seduced by God. One is the lone defiant, the other the yielding. As the humanist poet, Goethe presents both identities as aspects or forms of the human condition. The poem was set to music, among others, by Franz Schubert, Carl Loewe, and by Hugo Wolf.
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Wie im Morgenglanze Du rings mich anglühst, Frühling, Geliebter! Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne Sich an mein Herz drängt Deiner ewigen Wärme Heilig Gefühl, Unendliche Schöne! Daß ich dich fassen möcht' In diesen Arm! Ach, an deinem Busen Lieg' ich, schmachte, Und deine Blumen, dein Gras Drängen sich an mein Herz. Du kühlst den brennenden Durst meines Busens, Lieblicher Morgenwind! Ruft drein die Nachtigall Liebend nachmirausdem Nebeltal. Ich komm', ich komme! Wohin? Ach, wohin? Hinauf! Hinauf strebt's. Es schweben die Wolken Abwärts, die Wolken Neigen sich der sehnenden Liebe. Mir! Mir! In eurem Schosse Aufwärts! Umfangend umfangen! Aufwärts an deinen Busen, Alliebender Vater! How, in the morning brightness, You all around shine at me, Springtime, Beloved! With thousandfold love-bliss The holy feeling Of your eternal warmth Presses itself upon my heart, Unending beauty! Could I but embrace you In this arm! Ah, upon your breast I lie, languish, And your blossoms, your grass press upon my heart. You cool the burning Thirst of my bosom, Lovely morning-wind! There calls the nightingale Lovingly for me from the misty vale. I come, I come! Whither, ah whither? Up! Up it surges. The clouds are leaning Downwards, the clouds Bow down to yearning love. To me! To me! In your lap, clouds, Upwards! Embracing, embraced! Upwards to thy bosom, All-loving Father!
