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RIP - Comicality
    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
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  • 10/07/2019
  • 226 Words
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  • 6 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 - 31. "Here no Christmas trees twinkle lit for us"

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30. Weil wir in Wintersturm und Eisenklang

Der stummen Wut der Schanzen hingegeben

So bettelarm und abgeschieden leben,

Erstarrend zwischen Sieg und Untergang,

 

Weil für uns keine Weihnachtsbäume brennen,

Wenn fern die Heimat sich zur Freude schmückt,

Da, wo die Kinder froh ins Zimmer rennen,

Und Frauen sind, in Anmut süß verzückt –

 

Komm zu uns über die verschneiten Hügel,

Du alter Christ, vom Leid der Welt bewegt,

Breite dich in des Himmels Silberflügel

 

Über uns aus, daß auf der dunklen Erde

Aus unsrer Wunde deine Wunde werde,

Die sanft die Not der großen Stunde trägt.

 

                              ---

 

30. Here in cold storm and tinkling iron for us,

Surrendered to the quiet rage of ramparts,

We live so desolate, so forgotten,

Frozen between winning and losing all;

 

Here no Christmas trees twinkle lit for us,

When home bedecks itself in merriment;

There, where kids run joyously into rooms,

And the eyes of women shine with wonder –

 

Come to us over the snow-covered hillsides,

You Christ of old, moved by the world's suff'ring,

Spread yourself in the sky upon silver wings

 

High over us so that from the darkest earth

Our wound may be borne gently as your wound,

Lifting with you the great hardship of the hour.

 

                              ---

 

 

 

_

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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Parker Owens

How desolate these cold, weary soldiers are; how much, even early in the war, do they yearn for the seasons of peacetime. Hans again draws on images of home and faith, this time to try and conjure Christmas in the mind in a war that makes privation and brutality eternal. Your translation evokes the chill winds of death and cold; through it we hear the heart-cries of those who lived in that horrific war. 

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Mikiesboy

I missed Christmas those years i had none. It was the worst time of year to be on your own. All you want is those who love you and  you love. Presents and all of that mean nothing. 

Reading these ... his calling for God/Christ ... makes me wonder. It makes me wonder, if all believed in the same God, what type of horrible creature would allow all his 'children' fight like this. How did God choose which side to support?  What kind of Father was he where all this bloody horror was just fine with him?  None that deserves my belief. 

Hans' poem is sad and grieving for the life he is missing and wants. It drags up feelings i no longer want to think of.

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AC Benus
On 10/7/2019 at 9:38 AM, Parker Owens said:

How desolate these cold, weary soldiers are; how much, even early in the war, do they yearn for the seasons of peacetime. Hans again draws on images of home and faith, this time to try and conjure Christmas in the mind in a war that makes privation and brutality eternal. Your translation evokes the chill winds of death and cold; through it we hear the heart-cries of those who lived in that horrific war. 

Thank you, Parker. I find the line "We live so desolate, so forgotten" to be heartbreaking. To feel forgotten at a time like this...it just tugs on the heart. Thank you for reading and commenting on this poem. 

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Lyssa

That sonnet is heartbreaking, but it also makes me think about the people today, which must feel forgotten. Looking at Christmas in two month... out in the world are far to many people having to endure cruel wars or hunger or persecution for very different reasons.

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AC Benus
On 10/7/2019 at 11:14 AM, Mikiesboy said:

I missed Christmas those years i had none. It was the worst time of year to be on your own. All you want is those who love you and  you love. Presents and all of that mean nothing. 

Reading these ... his calling for God/Christ ... makes me wonder. It makes me wonder, if all believed in the same God, what type of horrible creature would allow all his 'children' fight like this. How did God choose which side to support?  What kind of Father was he where all this bloody horror was just fine with him?  None that deserves my belief. 

Hans' poem is sad and grieving for the life he is missing and wants. It drags up feelings i no longer want to think of.

Thank you for your comments, Tim. Hugs for what you are saying. I wish things could have been different. For the men of Hans' generation, what if the famous  truce of Christmas 1914 on the Western Front had become permanent, with the men just refusing to kill one another for some abstract ideas of national duty. What if...but the generals saw to it that man-to-man meeting of "enemies" did not happen in 1916 and 1917. The killing was to go on right though the holy-day....

Edited by AC Benus
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AC Benus
On 10/19/2019 at 3:46 AM, Lyssa said:

That sonnet is heartbreaking, but it also makes me think about the people today, which must feel forgotten. Looking at Christmas in two month... out in the world are far to many people having to endure cruel wars or hunger or persecution for very different reasons.

There are such horrible images coming out of Syria again... Hans' line about the forgotten seems so sadly apt for the Kurds... Our world is capable of so much better 

As always, thank you for reading, commenting and giving me tremendous support while I struggle through this project  

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