Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Thousandth Regiment - 8. "Suddenly the woods are shorn by a ravine"
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8. Jäh ist der Wald von einer Schlucht zerrissen,
In der die Flut der Sonne grell gerinnt.
Wall und Gebüsche starren wie Kulissen,
Die rätselbunt und voll Erwartung sind.
Wir laden zagend. Und die Finger wissen
Das gleitende Geheimnis der Patronen,
Die noch so glatt in den Gewehren wohnen
Und doch so hungrig sind nach roten Bissen.
Vorn, vor der grünenden Traverse, steigen
Die weißen Scheiben, Uhren unsrer Zeit,
Wie Schwäne still, verzauberter Gestalt.
Wir sind zu jedem Mord sinnlos bereit;
Und wie die Flüche der Sergeanten schweigen,
Hallen die Schüsse langhin durch den Wald.
---
8. Suddenly the woods are shorn by a ravine,
In which the sun's tide congeals garishly.
Wall and bushes stare fixedly like backdrops,
Puzzled and yet expectant witnesses.
We load anxiously. And the fingers know the
Sightless way to slide in the cartridges,
Those who live so glibly in the smooth barrel
Yet go hungering for their bloody bites.
There, there behind the green parapet, now climb
The white sheets, the stopwatch of our timing,
The silent silver swans, enchanting figures.
Though we are senselessly poised for murder,
This time the curses of the sergeants are still,
Echoing but shots through the woods long ago.
---
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- 1
- 8
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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