English poem
The He-Ape
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
The world’s the ball: Doth rise and fall, And roll incessant: Like glass doth ring, A hollow thing,— How soon will’t spring, And drop, quiescent? Here bright it gleams, Here brighter seems: I live at present! Dear son, I say, Keep thou away! Thy doom is spoken! ’Tis made of clay, And will be broken.