| Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916. | | | | The Wizard’s Apprentice | | By 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, | 5 |
| All he used to do. | |
| By my wit I’ll show | |
| I can conjure too. | |
| Water flow, | |
| And profuse, | 10 |
| For good use, | |
| Bubbling pour, | |
| Till the foaming basin grow | |
| Richer, fuller evermore. | |
| Come, old broom and don your rag! | 15 |
| 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! | 20 |
| Get me water, go! | |
| Take your pail and hop! | |
| Water flow, | |
| And profuse, | |
| For good use, | 25 |
| Bubbling pour, | |
| Till the foaming basin grow | |
| Richer, fuller evermore. | |
| Lo, he runs and now indeed | |
| He has reached the river’s shore, | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| Look like water-wells! | |
| Stay, stand still! | |
| Of thy store | |
| I have more | |
| Than my fill! | 40 |
| 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! | 45 |
| Wert thou but the old, old broom! | |
| More and more he brings, | |
| Still new torrents gush! | |
| Over me he flings | |
| Rivers with their rush. | 50 |
| I will bear | |
| This no longer: | |
| Hold—I’m stronger! | |
| Treachery! | |
| Now I feel a creeping scare! | 55 |
| 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. | 60 |
| Oh, the broom accursed | |
| Will not heed my will! | |
| Stick thou wast at first— | |
| Once again stand still! | |
| Will he never | 65 |
| Do what’s told him? | |
| I will hold him, | |
| And endeavour | |
| Fast to split the bad old wood | |
| With my hatchet sharp and good. | 70 |
| 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! | 75 |
| Lo, he’s cut in twain! | |
| I can hope, and freed | |
| I can breathe again! | |
| Woe! What plight! | |
| Now each part | 80 |
| Up doth start, | |
| And upright | |
| Stand two servants in my sight! | |
| Help me, oh, some higher might! | |
| And they run! Now more and more | 85 |
| 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! | 90 |
| Spirits I have called | |
| I can’t drive away. | |
| “In the room’s | |
| Corner, brooms! | |
| There you were. | 95 |
| You shall stir | |
| Only when I let you loose, | |
| Spirits for the master’s use!” | | | | |
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