It shall likely still hold together for a bit, this old world,
Though you rebel mightily in it with steam and flames,
Though you busy yourself everywhere with hammering and banging and digging: --
You shall still sweat many a drop until you have industrialized everything to death!
Despite the throng of your fumes, in which one forgets to breathe, --
There is still a weighty amount of free and happy things:
The golden seam of the stars is still knit to the blue of heaven,
The structure of the world still rests upon the solid rocky core.
The waves and the green woods still roar freely,
And the dear rainbow still gazes amicably upon the valley: --
However much mankind may plague this good old world, --
It can still withstand a lot before it collapses.