There was only one thing I could not do: wrest the dark secret goal from myself andkeep it before me as others did who knew exactly what they wanted to be--professors, lawyers, doctors, artists, however long this would take them and whatever difficulties and advantages this decision would bear in its wake. This I could not do. Perhaps I would become something similar, but how was I to know? Perhaps I would have to continue my search for years on end and would not become anything, and would not reach a goal.Perhaps I would reach this goal but it would turn out to be an evil,dangerous, horrible one?

At that time I felt I had reached a safe harbor, an islandof peace. But as always, as soon as I had become accustomed to mycondition, as soon as a dream had given me hope, it wilted and becameuseless.

I had already felt much loneliness, now there was a deeper lonelinessstill which was inescapable.

I had often speculated with images of thefuture, dreamed of roles that I might be assigned, perhaps as poet or prophet or painter, or something similar.All that was futile. I did not exist to write poems, to preach or to aint, neither I nor anyone else. All of that was incidental. Each man had only one genuine vocation--to find the way to himself. He might end up as poet or madman, as prophet or criminal--that was not his affair, ultimately it was of no concern. His task was to discover his own destiny--not an arbitrary one--and live it out wholly and resolutely within himself.Everything else was only a would-be existence, an attempt at evasion, a flight back to the ideals of the masses, conformity and fear of one's own inwardness. The new vision rose up before me, glimpsed a hundred times,possibly even expressed before but now experienced for the first time by e. I was an experiment on the part of Nature, a gamble within the unknown, perhaps for a new purpose, perhaps for nothing, and my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to take its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine. That or nothing!

就在这同时，受到这样威胁的汉斯却凉凉地、宁静地躺在黑黝黝的河水里，慢慢地沿着山谷顺流而下。他已经摆脱了恶心、羞愧和痛苦。寒冷的淡蓝色的秋夜俯视着他那在黑暗中漂流而去的瘦弱身体。黝黑的河水在戏弄着他的双手、头发和发白的嘴唇。谁也没有看到他，除非是那只黎明前出来猎取食物的胆怯的水獭向他狡猾地偷看一眼，不声不响从他身旁滑走了。也没有人知道，他是怎样掉进水里去的。也许他迷了路，站在陡坡上滑下去的；也许他想喝水，身子失去了平衡；也许是美丽的河水吸引了他,使他俯身过去，因为夜晚和淡淡的月光那样充满了和平与沉静的气氛迎着他望，所以困倦和恐惧就在暗中退迫他,把他驱进了死亡的阴影。
（《在轮下》）

病中
欢迎你，黑夜！欢迎你，星星！
我渴望睡眠，我不会再醒，
不会再想，不会再哭笑，
我只想睡觉。
睡上一百年，一千年，
不管天空斗转星移；
母亲知道我是多么的疲乏，
她俯下所身子，露着星星白发。
母亲，永远别让天亮，
别再让白天来到我身旁！
它的白光那样地充满了敌意，那样坏，
我简直说不出来。
我走过那么多的路，又热又长，
我的心已完全被烧伤——
黑夜阿，给我开门，领我去死亡之乡。
我没有别的愿望，我已经一步也不能走，
死亡母亲，给我伸出你的手，
让我对你无穷无尽的眼睛凝望！

Im Nebel
Seltsam, im Nebel zu wandern!
Einsam ist jeder Busch und Stein,
Kein Baum sieht den andern,
Jeder ist allein.
Voll von Freunden war mir die Welt,
Als noch mein Leben licht war;
Nun, da der Nebel fällt,
Ist keiner mehr sichtbar.
Wahrlich, keiner ist weise,
Der nicht das Dunkel kennt,
Das unenntrinnbar und leise
Von allen ihn trennt.
Seltsam, im Nebel zu wandern!
Leben ist Einsamsein.
Kein Mensch kennt den andern,
Jeder ist allein

In the Fog
Strange,to wander in the fog!
Each bush and stone stands alone,
No tree sees the next one,
Each is alone.
My world was full of friends
When my life was filled with light,
Now as the fog descends
None is still to be seen.
Truly there is no wise man
Who does not know the dark
Which quitely and inescapably
Separates him from everything else.
Strange,to wander in the fog!
To live is to be alone.
No man knows the next man,
Each is alone.

Dort ist alles, was du brauchst,
Sonne, Stern und Mond,
Denn das Licht, danach du frugst,
In dir selber wohnt.
那儿有你需要的一切，
太阳、星星与月亮，
因为你所渴望的光，
正住在你的心中。

NACHT
夜 (这首其实是《盖特露德》中的歌词)
Ich habe meine Kerze ausgelöscht;
Zum offenen Fenster strömt die Nacht herein,
Umarmt mich sanft und läßt mich ihren Freund
Und ihren Bruder sein.
我灭去烛光，
夜涌进敞开的窗，
它轻轻拥抱我，我们
似挚友无间，如手足情长。
Wir beide sind am selben Heimweh krank;
Wir senden ahnungsvolle Träume aus
Und reden flüsternd von der alten Zeit
In unsres Vaters Haus.
我们同病怀乡，
我们互诉梦里的衷肠。
喁喁地絮谈
祖屋里的旧日时光。