English poem
Proktophantasmist
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus? Had you not, long since, demonstration That ghosts can’t stand on ordinary foundation? And now you even dance, like one of us!
THE FAIR ONE (dancing)
Why does he come, then, to our ball?
FAUST (dancing)
O, everywhere on him you fall! When others dance, he weighs the matter: If he can’t every step bechatter, Then ’tis the same as were the step not made; But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. If you would whirl in regular gyration As he does in his dull old mill, He’d show, at any rate, good-will,— Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation.