Zufällig habe ich gestern dieses Gedicht von Samuel Coleridge entdeckt:
On the Curious Circumstance, That in the German &c.
Our English poets, bad and good, agree
To make the Sun a male, the Moon a she.
He drives his dazzling diligence on high,
In verse, as constantly as in the sky;
And cheap as blackberries our sonnets show
The Moon, Heaven's huntress, with her silver bow;
By which they'd teach us, if I guess aright,
Man rules the day, and woman rules the night.
In Germany, they just reverse the thing;
The Sun becomes a queen, the Moon a king.
Now, that the Sun should represent the women,
The Moon the men, to me seem'd mighty humming;
And when I first read German, made me stare.
Surely it is not that the wives are there
As common as the Sun, to lord and loon,
And all their husbands hornéd as the Moon.