Hyperion to Diotima
I’ve awoken from the death of parting, my Diotima! fortified, as if from sleep, my spirit lifts itself up.
I’m writing to you from an Epidaurian mountain peak. There in the depths your island shimmers distant, Diotima! and out there my stadium where I must triumph or fall. O Peloponnese! O you springs of the Eurotas and Alpheus! That’s where it will be decided! Out of the Spartan forests the ancient genius of the land shall swoop down like an eagle with our army, as on rushing wings.
My soul is full of lust for deeds and full of love, Diotima, and my eye gazes out into the Greek valleys as if it might magically command: arise again, you cities of the gods!
A god must be in me, for I hardly even feel our separation. Like the blissful shades of Lethe my soul now lives with yours in heavenly freedom and fate sways over our love no more.