Falk.
But have you thought about the future?
Lind.
Thought?
I?—thought about the future? No, from this
Time forth I live but in the hour that is.
In home shall all my happiness be sought;
We hold Fate's reins, we drive her hither, thither,
And neither friend nor mother shall have right
To say unto my budding blossom: Wither!
For I am earnest and her eyes are bright,
And so it must unfold into the light!
Falk.
Yes, Fortune likes you, you will serve her turn!
Lind.
My spirits like wild music glow and burn;
I feel myself a Titan: though a foss
Opened before me—I would leap across!
Falk.
Your love, you mean to say, in simple prose,
Has made a reindeer of you.
Lind.
Well, suppose;
But in my wildest flight, I know the nest
In which my heart's dove longs to be at rest!
