A single summer

A single summer grant me great powers
and a single autumn for fully ripened song
that, sated with the sweetness of my playing,
my heart may more willingly die.
The soul that living, did not attain its divine right
cannot repose in the underworld.
But once what I am bent on, what is holy,
my poetry is accomplished,
be welcome then, stillness of the shadows' world.
I shall be satisfied, though my lyre
will not accompany me down there.
Once I lived like the gods, and more is not needed.

    - Freidrich Hoelderlin (1770-1843)