"Modern bourgeois society, with its relations of production, of exchange and of property, a society that has conjured up such gigantic means of production and of exchange, is like the sorcerer who is no longer able to control the powers of the nether world whom he has called up by his spells."

http://www.has.vcu.edu/for/goethe/zauber_dual.html

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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That old sorcerer has vanished And for once has gone away! Spirits called by him, now banished, My commands shall soon obey. Every step and saying That he used, I know, And with sprites obeying My arts I will show. Flow, flow onward Stretches many Spare not any Water rushing, Ever streaming fully downward Toward the pool in current gushing. Come, old broomstick, you are needed, Take these rags and wrap them round you! Long my orders you have heeded, By my wishes now I've bound you. Have two legs and stand, And a head for you. Run, and in your hand Hold a bucket too. Flow, flow onward Stretches many, Spare not any Water rushing, Ever streaming fully downward Toward the pool in current gushing. See him, toward the shore he's racing There, he's at the stream already, Back like lightning he is chasing, Pouring water fast and steady. Once again he hastens! How the water spills, How the water basins Brimming full he fills! Stop now, hear me! Ample measure Of your treasure We have gotten! Ah, I see it, dear me, dear me. Master's word I have forgotten! Ah, the word with which the master Makes the broom a broom once more! Ah, he runs and fetches faster! Be a broomstick as before! Ever new the torrents That by him are fed, Ah, a hundred currents Pour upon my head! No, no longer Can I please him, I will seize him! That is spiteful! My misgivings grow the stronger. What a mien, his eyes how frightful! Brood of hell, you're not a mortal! Shall the entire house go under? Over threshold over portal Streams of water rush and thunder. Broom accurst and mean, Who will have his will, Stick that you have been, Once again stand still! Can I never, Broom, appease you? I will seize you, Hold and whack you, And your ancient wood I'll sever, With a whetted axe I'll crack you. He returns, more water dragging! Now I'll throw myself upon you! Soon, 0 goblin, you'll be sagging. Crash! The sharp axe has undone you. What a good blow, truly! There, he's split, I see. Hope now rises newly, And my breathing's free. Woe betide me! Both halves scurry In a hurry, Rise like towers There beside me. Help me, help, eternal powers! Off they run, till wet and wetter Hall and steps immersed are Iying. What a flood that naught can fetter! Lord and master, hear me crying! - Ah, he comes excited. Sir, my need is sore. Spirits that I've cited My commands ignore. "To the lonely Corner, broom! Hear your doom. As a spirit When he wills, your master only Calls you, then 'tis time to hear it."

1779, translation by Edwin Zeydel, 1955