Let the Greek mould his clay into shapes, let him increase his delight by the fruit of his own hands;
But our delight is to dip our hands into the Euphrates and to roam here and there in the fluid element.
When I have thus cooled the ardour of the soul, song will sound by itself; when the poet takes it in his pure hand, water will take shape.
1819. Prose translation by Leonard Forster.
