Blick in die Ferne Looking Away

?You put wings on your feet

Parallel through the mountains and deep valleys

your loved one far from his home

beautiful holy muse

at last when

Can I rest in your bosom again?

- Goethe, "Son of the Muse"

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This is a small city surrounded by green mountains and green water passing by. Its name is Weimar.

Three years ago today, I was a law student who had just graduated from university, obsessed with poetry and literature all day long, and ignored the teachings of my parents.I wandered the streets of Frankfurt all day long, trying to grab my own inspiration in the crisscross alleys.

I thought I would always be so leisurely, write eloquently, and live a free life.

Until one ordinary day, I met that extraordinary person.

It is the largest square in Frankfurt. The Duke of Weimar, who is already famous all over the world despite his young age, stretched out his hand to me and said to me——

Goethe, come to Weimar.

Three years later, Weimar was still the same Weimar, but I was no longer the same.

At this moment, I am sitting on a hillside outside Weimar, watching the Ilm River below the mountain, which divides the line of sight in two like a bright silver belt, and the people busy at the Bolanker Ferry.

However, the busy and jubilant atmosphere of the ferry did not belong to me.I am a few feet away from them, but it feels like a thousand miles away.

I know that when a person reaches my position, any dissatisfaction should not exist.

I, Johann Wolfgang Goethe.Officially living in the Weimar Duchy as a privy adviser and director of the court theater, I can see my name every day when I open the newspaper, and the critics use all the compliments to praise my script... In such a situation, I should not have any dissatisfaction.

However, with the addition of the lord, the government affairs have become more and more busy, and I found that as a poet, my passion and vitality for literature are dwindling day by day.

Suddenly, I thought of the letter I received from Helder not long ago. He said that my talent has been eroded by complicated government affairs.

Indeed, I lowered my head and clenched my fists uncontrollably.Day after day of the Privy Council meeting, year after year of hypocrisy, my hand that is used to holding a quill is now also used to the feeling of holding a wine glass.

"Mr. Advisor," the attendant approached and asked respectfully, "The meeting in the afternoon is about to start, do you want to go back home to prepare?"

I waved at them, "Go back first, I want to be quiet for a while."

"But..." The attendant glanced at the simple clothes I was wearing with complicated eyes, wondering why, "But there is not much time, you should at least go back and change into something suitable for attending the meeting..."

I glanced at him impatiently, and he immediately fell silent.

"Understood." I replied perfunctorily, looking at the ferry again.

"Then let's retreat first." The attendants saluted me meticulously, then turned and left.

I changed a comfortable posture and leaned on the hillside, flipping through the book "The Sorrows of Young Werther" published a long time ago in my hand.

Since I was involved in political affairs, I have never written again. The only way to maintain my sensitivity to words is to take time to reminisce about my previous novels.

At this time, there was a sudden exclamation from the ferry, and I frowned and raised my head, wanting to see what happened below.

An old man fell down on the deck of the ferry, and the cart in his hand fell to the side.The wooden boxes on the car were all torn apart, and the glass goods inside were all broken into dross, spread all over the floor, crystal clear under the sunlight.Seeing that the exquisite ornaments were destroyed, the people around all sighed with regret.

"Come and help!" Someone shouted.

I saw a young man waving his arms and greeting people around him.His voice was full of vigor, and his movements were even more exaggerated, but soon the people around were attracted by his shouts, and hurriedly helped to clean up the debris.

The noon sun enveloped him from head to toe, like gold and waterfalls, shining brilliantly.

I stared blankly at the golden figure, unable to look away.

The young man also saw me not far away. He waved at me and shouted: "Sir! If there is nothing wrong, please come and help me. There is an old gentleman who fell down here!"

I reacted and pointed to myself in disbelief, "Me?"

"Yes." He nodded with a smile, his brown-red hair was very eye-catching in the sun.

I hesitated for a while, and finally picked up the book and walked to the ferry.Together with the people at the ferry, I packed up the broken goods and loaded them all into the old man's car.When the dust settled, I looked around in the crowd, looking for that pleasing touch of red.Soon, I found that the young man was comforting him beside the old man. He seemed to have sensed something, and suddenly raised his eyes.

Our eyes met, and we both felt the inquiry in each other's eyes.

He smiled at me politely.

His smile is beautiful, I can't help thinking.

When I came back to my senses, I found that he had approached, staring at the book in my hand with great interest.

I was suddenly a little embarrassed, and wanted to hide the book behind me, but I heard him singing softly: "Which boy is not passionate, which girl is not pregnant." His amber eyes were smiling, "It turns out that Mr. Goethe's book."

I was startled, then smiled and said, "Yes, so you also read his books."

"More than that," the young man's eyes were full of admiration and envy, "he is my most admired poet."

I was very happy when I heard him say that, but I didn't show it. I just said lightly: "It's a pity that he hasn't written a book for a long time."

The young man nodded, with a regretful tone, "It must be because the government is very busy."

He cast his eyes in the direction of the center of Weimar, and said: "I hope those idle things don't wear away his aura in literature. After all, busy work always makes people forget joy, and happiness is the driving force of literature." .”

I was amazed by what he said, nodded and said: "It makes sense."

The young man didn't answer, but looked at me quietly.Just when I was about to ask aloud, he smiled slightly, and asked in a slightly shy tone: "Would you like to listen to the next poem, sir?"

"Of course." I said respectfully.

From the exchange just now, it is not difficult to see that this young man has extraordinary conversation and graceful temperament, and is a rare literary scholar.I was naturally very happy to make friends with him, so I raised my right arm and made a gesture of invitation, "Can we talk while walking?"

The young man nodded and walked along the river with me.

The wind in spring is the most genial, and the gentle and melodious voice of the young people is a thousand times more genial than the spring breeze. They flow into my eardrums together and warm into the heart of my heart all the way.

"...joy is the strong clockwork that keeps the eternal cycle of nature going. Joy is the power that turns the cogs in the great clock of the world. She makes the buds bloom into flowers, she makes the sun shine in the sky..."

I listened to him singing his poems in a gentle voice, his face was full of smiles, the sun set a gold border on his perfect side profile, he turned his head sideways, strands of golden light leaked down his slender eyelashes , eyes flow, very moving.

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, just when he finished his last sentence, he turned to me and said, "Sir, this is my Ode to Joy."

I suddenly knew what I was dissatisfied with.

Years of unremarkable life have made my obsession with literature almost disappear.The numerous and false affairs made my heart numb, and I also lacked the motivation to find inspiration in the past.

The flame in my heart was dimming day by day, but today, it suddenly brightened.

It was this young man who ignited it again.

I looked at him gratefully and asked, "I don't know your name yet."

The young man tilted his head, revealing a perfect jawline, and his delicate eyes almost curved into arcs with a smile.He smiled apologetically, "I actually forgot to introduce myself all the time."

"My next Friedrich von Schiller, you can call me Schiller, Herr Goethe."

I looked at Schiller with sly eyes in front of me in surprise.He smiled at me calmly, even blinking mischievously.

The astonishment was swept away, so I could only touch my nose in embarrassment, "You actually saw it."

Schiller said with a smile: "Mr. Goethe is famous all over the world. The newspapers with your portrait may be stacked up to exceed the height of the person below me." He walked slowly and walked across from me, "It's just that Mr. Goethe must be trying to understand the people's sentiments." I disguised it on purpose." His eyes glanced at my casual clothes, "Well, compared with the high-spirited look in the photo, it's a bit different."

I chuckled, "Is it weird to dress like this?"

"Of course not," Schiller replied quickly, his cheeks flushed a little.He turned his face to the side, avoiding my probing eyes, and replied: "Although it lacks a bit of luxury, it adds a very casual and free and easy. It is very suitable for you."

Looking at this handsome and extraordinary young man, I felt an inexplicable urge to know him better, so I continued to ask: "Then where did you recognize your identity?"

"It's the eyes." He replied.

I repeated puzzledly: "Eyes?"

"When I was reciting poems, your intoxicated eyes told me that you must be a person with profound insights into poetry." He paused, and then said, "I am not arrogant and conceited, but I believe that "Joy" The poem "Ode" is already a perfect masterpiece. And you are a person who understands fine things. Although Weimar is the cultural capital of Europe, it spreads overseas with drama, and people who really understand poetry in this city, I can You are the only one who thinks of Herr Goethe." Schiller stared at me confidently, with a smile on his lips.

"What a 'person who really understands poetry'!" I sighed with a smile, "There are so many people who flatter me on weekdays, how many people can understand me like you? Yes, among the many aspects of literature, my favorite Poetry, and only poetry, can make me so intoxicated."

"However, sir," Schiller said sternly, "Schiller is not a flatterer, I am only willing to give my heartfelt praise to those who deserve my admiration."

I stared at him blankly, then smiled and said: "It seems that today's escape will not be in vain."

I politely extended my right hand to Schiller and said, "Schiller, I hope we can become friends in the future. Your confidence and talent are really impressive."

Schiller obviously didn't expect me to issue such a formal invitation, and there was a trace of surprise, understanding, admiration, and [-]% confidence in his brows and eyes.

Then he held my hand back and smiled sincerely, "Me too. Goethe."

One afternoon not long after, I got a letter from Schiller.The letter said that he was struggling recently and wanted me to introduce him to a job.Through previous understanding, I know that he was a military doctor in an infantry brigade in Stuttgart, and his life was not rich.

Such a talented person, I must help him.I thought about it and decided to recommend him to be an assistant professor at the University of Jena.

Although we do not live in the same city, we often communicate with each other by letter.

Time flies, and although we get together less and leave more during this period, we have known each other for two years.As we become more familiar with each other, the content of the conversation is no longer limited to the discussion of literary issues, and sometimes we will also talk about life issues.And Schiller often wrote to me what he knew about me.

"Goethe, although we are not in the same city, I have observed your thoughts for a long time, and I admire you very much. In order to understand individual things, you take the whole of nature as a research object, just like in "Iliad" Achilles, who chooses between the hero and the mediocre."

Every time I read a letter from Schiller, my mood will become extraordinarily comfortable. Even if I encounter any unsatisfactory things in the handling of government affairs, as long as I see his neat and beautiful handwriting, these troubles seem to be like rain after the rain. It disappeared immediately like a dark cloud.Friedrich von Schiller, has become my best friend with Goethe.And since I gained this friendship, I have been immersed in indescribable joy every day.

When I thought of meeting Schiller at the University of Jena last year, and was shocked to find that Schiller was getting taller and taller, as if he was less than half a head behind me, I suddenly wanted to lament the miracle of the Creator.

And Schiller's growth is not only in terms of appearance, but also literary attainments.

The European literary world has long needed to inject fresh blood like him, and the literary stage is also ready for his arrival.But gold always shines, especially after my recommendation, Schiller's reputation in Germany and the surrounding principalities has grown.

At the close of Parliament today, I heard the praises of Schiller from Chancellor Kleiss and Deputy Theater Director Galliber.I don't know why, but I'm so happy.

So after receiving Schiller's letter, I quickly wrote on the brown paper: "Schiller, please allow me to visit you on weekends."

The days leading up to the weekend are the toughest, and the weather in Weimar is getting muggier.

The colleagues in the Privy Council saw that I was extremely irritable, and asked me if I had a fever with concern. Even Duke August was alarmed and asked to grant me a vacation.I had to make a special trip for this, and clarified to him: "I'm fine, Mr. Duke."

I don't think there's anything unusual about me. If there's anything really unusual about me, it's just that I want to see Schiller very much, and I'm extremely eager.

"You are welcome, Goethe. I have been waiting for you."

Seeing me walk into the living room, Schiller stood up and said happily, and gave me a warm hug.

"I can't sleep well if I don't have a deep talk with you," I said with a smile.

Schiller told the servants that if anyone came looking for him, just say he wasn't home, "We can talk for days and nights this time." He patted me on the shoulder.

After dinner, Schiller and I exchanged our thoughts on literature in his study. Schiller seemed very excited, and he talked a lot.Looking at his radiant face, I suddenly thought of something and said to him, "Come to Weimar."

Schiller was a little taken aback by my abrupt invitation.

"I want you to come to the Palace Theater to help me," I tried my best to organize the words in my mind. It always takes some irresistible reasons to persuade such a literary genius, "You know, the theater will open to the audience on holidays in the future." If ordinary citizens are open, then the repertoire will increase, and I am afraid that the scripts will not be enough. But if..."

"no problem!"

"Huh?" I was stunned.

Schiller's quick promise caught me by surprise. God knows how much I thought about how to persuade him if he refused on the way here.

"I know that you have recently been promoted to full professor. If you want to come to the theater, I am afraid you will not be able to continue your tenure. Do you really need to think about it? I tried it out, hoping that he would not regret it.

Schiller shook his head and said with a smile: "I know that what you value most in Weimar is your court theater, which has cost you a lot of effort. If you are willing to invite me, it shows that you value me, and I As your friend, how can I refuse your kind invitation?"

"Schiller..." A touch of emotion welled up in my heart, I gently held his hand, "Thank you."

"It...it should be..." Under the light, Schiller's tea-brown eyes glowed orange, and a blush seemed to flash across his face.

I just felt a tightness in my chest and a faint feeling of suffocation.The charming lights and the fleeting red make my heart surge...or is it all my fault?