On the bridge I stood
recently in the amber night.
From afar came a voice:
a golden drop poured
over the trembling surface.
Gondolas, lights, music –
drunken it floated out into the twilight …

My soul, a lute
invisibly plucked, sang out
a secret gondola song,
trembling with iridescent joy.
– Did anyone hear it …?

— Nietzsche (trans. The Poseidonian)