Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 704

The world behold;

Unceasingly roll'd,

It riseth and falleth ever;

It ringeth like glass!

How brittle, alas!

'Tis hollow, and resteth never.

How bright the sphere,

Still brighter here!

Now living am I!

Dear son, beware!

Nor venture there!

Thou too must die!

It is of clay;

'Twill crumble away;

There fragments lie.