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    AC Benus
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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. 

a Glass Floor Underfoot - 5. how shattered

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Widmung

 

Die ihr im flüsternden Walde nächtens schweift,

Vorm falben Frühlicht in die Häuser kehrt,

Nach Schmetterlingen langt, nach Faltern greift,

Ihr licht- und frohen Kinder unversehrt

 

Von Qual, die sinnlos uns am Boden schleift,

Die uns der Tage Munterkeit verwehrt,

Und, wenn die stumpf Entschlafnen Morgen streift,

Heiß gegen Wollen und Traum aufbegehrt:

 

Ich will erinnern, wie ich eure Kreise,

Die Spiele der begeisterten Natur

Verlassen musste, Hügel, Fluss und Flur,

 

Wie ich die tief in Lehm geschnittnen Gleise,

Hinwandernd zu den großen Städten kam:

Nun kenn ich Jugend krank und Alter gram

 

Und die Zertrümmerung der Menschen-Seele. [i]

 

 

 ---------------------------------

 

 

Convocation

You who drift in some rustling forest at night,

Going home ‘fore dull morning’s glow is spied,

Grasping at butterflies, grasping moths in flight,

Bright and joyful children unscathed inside

 

From torment, which drags us to the ground with might,

To whom day’s lithe cheerfulness is denied,

And which lackluster morn comes as sleeping’s blight

To hot rebel against both dreams and pride:

 

I’ll recall I was forced to leave your confines,

Where the games of nature delight and thrill,

Parting from field and river, stream and hill,

 

For just as deep-cut track and clay intwines

Wandering towards the great cities still,

Age finds itself sorrowful, and youth ill

 

To know how shattered is a human soul.

 

 

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Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Mountains in Winter (1919)

 

 

 

 

 


[i] Widmung (“Convocation”)

Die Aktion, Vol. 1, No. 38, November 6th, 1911, p. 1190

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Copyright © 2022 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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Deep melancholy permeates this poem;  day is bright, but must give way to bleak disenchanted night. The red-sky mountains in the accompanying illustration are a perfect visual: are we mourning the delights of the day, or weary with the darkness at dawn? 

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On 6/19/2022 at 5:29 AM, Parker Owens said:

Deep melancholy permeates this poem;  day is bright, but must give way to bleak disenchanted night. The red-sky mountains in the accompanying illustration are a perfect visual: are we mourning the delights of the day, or weary with the darkness at dawn? 

Thanks for commenting on this, Parker. This is quite an interesting poem, full of allusions and vivid images. I'd say it's altogether dreamlike  

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