dots-menu
×

Home  »  A Harvest of German Verse  »  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)

Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.

By The Wizard’s Apprentice

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)

NOW old wizard has at last

Left me here and gone away!

And his spirit-minions fast

My commands shall now obey.

Master’s words I know,

All he used to do.

By my wit I’ll show

I can conjure too.

Water flow,

And profuse,

For good use,

Bubbling pour,

Till the foaming basin grow

Richer, fuller evermore.

Come, old broom and don your rag!

All my wishes now fulfill:

Thou hast long time been a fag;

Rise and stir and do my will!

Stand on two legs—so!

Head shall grow on top!

Get me water, go!

Take your pail and hop!

Water flow,

And profuse,

For good use,

Bubbling pour,

Till the foaming basin grow

Richer, fuller evermore.

Lo, he runs and now indeed

He has reached the river’s shore,

And returns with lightning speed,

Water from his pail to pour.

Now he’s done it twice:

How the basin swells!

Dishes in a trice

Look like water-wells!

Stay, stand still!

Of thy store

I have more

Than my fill!

Ah, now I begin to know:

I forgot the word! Oh, woe!

Word that makes him be at last

What he was inside the room!

Ah, he fills the bucket fast!

Wert thou but the old, old broom!

More and more he brings,

Still new torrents gush!

Over me he flings

Rivers with their rush.

I will bear

This no longer:

Hold—I’m stronger!

Treachery!

Now I feel a creeping scare!

Ah, what mien, what looks I see!

Oh, thou vilest child of hell!

Wouldst thou have the whole house drowned?

Mighty streams of water swell,

Over every threshold bound.

Oh, the broom accursed

Will not heed my will!

Stick thou wast at first—

Once again stand still!

Will he never

Do what’s told him?

I will hold him,

And endeavour

Fast to split the bad old wood

With my hatchet sharp and good.

There he comes, still burdened so!

On thee now I’ll cast my weight:

Fiend, thou shalt be lying low,

On thy wood the axe shall grate!

Good! I’ve done the deed!

Lo, he’s cut in twain!

I can hope, and freed

I can breathe again!

Woe! What plight!

Now each part

Up doth start,

And upright

Stand two servants in my sight!

Help me, oh, some higher might!

And they run! Now more and more

Deluge swallows stairs and hall.

Endless streams of water pour.

Lord and master! Hear me call!

There’s the master!—Pray,

Help, sir! I’m appalled!

Spirits I have called

I can’t drive away.

“In the room’s

Corner, brooms!

There you were.

You shall stir

Only when I let you loose,

Spirits for the master’s use!”