English Translation

92 176 In the jubilation of giving, Beethoven once wrote the words to the edge of the manuscript: * So the Schick sal hits the gate! " Now the hammer of his motif pokes in all variations to the conscience of the listeners. Grab the hammer, oh man, so that you don't weed, rather. beat it yourself! What is on you, you have to suck into yourself, so that it becomes part of your part: pain and need, heaven and lust! I'm not alone, O man. This one who has come to give me his expectation. The deity does not want man to remain alone in his struggle. Therefore, God created the comforter art, his omnipotence favorite daughter. And so hear my theme, brother -ensch, the theme of my life, the throbbing blows of the shell that fell upon me as long as I can think. And I, who knows, I tell you to comfort : only the victor may be in the end, who has gone through the scorching ! For the meaning of life is the exaggeration - or it is not worth babbling. And he who suffered, Boll Viktoria shout at the end, the deld, the dr he is ! For he will push through the flood of the dazzling confusion, as I jettish my theme, snorting the arrow upwards, towards the sky, toward the deity. The room sinks. About bristled "enschenwerk blaut Sternennacht. And into the silence the breath of the agitated one thrusts. - This is my outcast, beloved poet in the dress of dignity and the star. Forgive me all the rondoe and mirsche who want to be made. Virf the look in my heart, for I