dishly pathetic expressions of pain
over sudden parting, and of finding pleasure, as hitherto, in the
comic side of Fate's inevitable and unchangeable decree that separate
we must. And only after the power of my reason, laboring over the
unattainableness of my ideal, broke and relaxed, did I give myself
over to a stream of thoughts. I listened eagerly to all the motley
fairy-tales with which imagination and desire, like irresistible
sirens in my breast, charmed my senses. It did not occur to me to
criticise the seductive illusion as ignoble, although I well knew that
it was for the most part a beautiful lie. The soft music of the
fantasy seemed to fill the gaps in my longing. I gratefully observed
this and resolved to repeat for us in the future by my own
inventiveness that which good fortune had given me, and to begin for
you this poem of truth. And thus the original germ of this wonderful
growth of caprice and love came into being. And just as freely as it
sprouted did I intend it should grow up and run wild; and never from
love of order and economy shall I trim off any of its profuse
abundance of superfluous leaves and shoots.

Like a wise man of the East, I had fallen into a holy lethargy and
calm contemplation of the everlasting substances, more especially of
yours and mine. Greatness in repose, most people say, is the highest
aim of plastic art. And so, without any distinct purpose and without
any unseemly effort, I thought out and bodied forth our everlasting
substances in this dignified style. I looked back and saw how gentle
sleep overcame us in the midst of our embrace. Now and then one of us
would open an eye, smile at the sweet slumber of the other, and wake
up just enough to venture a jesting remark and a gentle caress. But
ere the wanton play thus begun was ended, we would both sink back into
the blissful lap of half-conscious self-forgetfulness.

With the greatest indignation I then thought of the bad men who would
abolish sleep. They have probably never slept, and likewise never
lived. Why are gods gods, except because they deliberately do nothing;
because they understand that art and are masters of it? And how the
poets, the sages and the saints strive to be like the gods, in that
respect as in others! How they vie with one another in praise of
solitude, of leisure, of liberal freedom from care and of inactivity!
And they are right in doing so; for everything that is good and
beautiful in life is alre