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    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 09/23/2019
  • 223 Words
  • 547 Views
  • 4 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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 - 24. "A shot-to-hell forest. A house like bone"

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24. Zerschossner Wald. Und wie ein beinern Haus

Kalktrümmer rings, im Mittag schmerzhaft weiß.

Die alten Gräber faulen dumpf und heiß

Und brüten Schwärme Fliegen schläfrig aus.

 

Sehr müde stehn die Posten an den Scharten,

Mal sirrt ein Schuß, und mal wird einem schlecht,

Die Gräben, gärende Kanäle, warten

Erstickt auf Kühle, Wind und Nachtgefecht.

 

Da: Krach und Stoß. Brüllend zerreißt das Land.

Ein Wimmern. Wo? Und dunkel wallt ein Schleier

Von zähem Rauch und wächst zur Wetterwand.

 

Hoch droben aber summt es fein und glänzt,

Da zieht ein Flieger, wie in stiller Feier,

Von einem tiefen Märchenblau umkränzt.

 

                              ---

 

24. A shot-to-hell forest. A house like bone

Blanches sorely amid lime ash at noon.

There old grave-mounds rot musty and torrid

And incubate swarms of drowsily hatched flies.

 

Exhausted guards stand watch at the gun ports;

Sometimes shots buzz, sometimes it makes you sick,

The trenches, the festering drains, waiting

Choked on cold, bluster and dark-hour fighting.

 

There: a bang and crash. A roar rips the land.

Wailing. From where? Then dark rolls up a veil

Of vicious smoke growing to a storm front.

 

High overhead, humming and glinting though,

A plane lifts, as if in tacit cheering,

Surrounded by a too-fairytale blue.

 

                              ---

 

 

 

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Copyright © 2019 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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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Chapter Comments

Lyssa

Reading this sonnet, I become overwhelmed with the feeling of drowning in the horror. Even the last picture of the airplane far away circling, holds this terrible contrast of longing to be far a way in a different peaceful place and knowing: That this plane will probably bring more death.

One of the saddest poems of the collection so hopeless. Thank you to take it upon you to translate it. Muha

 

 

Edited by Lyssa
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AC Benus
22 hours ago, Lyssa said:

Reading this sonnet, I become overwhelmed with the feeling of drowning in the horror. Even the last picture of the airplane far away circling, holds this terrible contrast of longing to be far a way in a different peaceful place and knowing: That this plane will probably bring more death.

One of the saddest poems of the collection so hopeless. Thank you to take it upon you to translate it. Muha

 

Thank you for reading and commenting, Lyssa. This poem does seem historic for mentioning how the war was suddenly extended to the sky. Because of this poem, I read up on how it started, and it seems a French pilot was the first to armor-plate his propeller and take a machine gun up in the air with him. He shot down 5 unarmed German reconnaissance planes, killing their crews, and "earning" the title of Ace. A nasty start, and somehow Hans has captured this new and previously unimagined horror to go along with the drains and graves of the old warfare.

A truly horrifying poem    

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AC Benus
8 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

i've read this several times ... trying to organize my thoughts, but each time i am sickened by what i see through Hans' words. And from my lips comes Oh my god and i just want to turn away. I did several times ... but he was there and wrote these words, he was there and lived this horror.

the least i can bloody do is read it

Yes, Tim, and I know to read it is hard. Perhaps some of the awful effectiveness of this poem has to do with the almost sleepy way he lists the horrors in the first two stanzas. This breaks almost like a slap in the face with the plane crash happening nearby them. A new and unwanted element to be on the lookout for.... Yes, it's an awful poem...    

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