day 95

this week's translation isn't quite like the previous ones for various reasons: a) it's a slam text that won felix römer a tv show price, b) it's a very personal and rather long text, c) i won't record it, d) i won't put his german original on here, but the video of his performance instead. his poem is called Ich war einmal ein Kind, I once was a child, and deals with his great-grandfather's war experiences. this poem earned him various prices and even standing ovations (a slam text, remember!). felix is one of four members of the german poetry slam boy band smaat.

should you want to skip the host's drivel, jump to 0:50, the final text then begins after 1:26.



I once was a child, a small boy in a frock, celebrated the emperor's birthday,
offered my flag to the wind, ready to fledge, to grow tall and strong.
I learned how to read, how to write, how to count and to fire.

And then they sent me to war. For the country, the vision,
and I celebrated Hitler's birthday, swung my arm to salute,
the arm then still strong and I, I was ready to fight.
They sent me far, ever farther in in eastward direction,
and i knew how to read, how to write, but no Russian,
that helped with the killing, I think.
The screams, though, they sounded alike,
pierced to the marrow and from the injured poured blood,
red, from all of them. And the corpses smelt rotten.
All of them.

I read the letters from home. "You have a daughter" they said.
"A daughter" I wondered, a child,
I had long forgotten what children smell like,
forever smelt ashes and death,
and i knew how to read how to write how to count and to fire
now i learned how to weep how to suffer and how to be silent.
I celebrated birthdays no longer since all time had absconded,
the feet froze and we ate the bark off the trees.

When the shot hit my shoulder I hoped it were finally over,
but it lived on for some reason, it kept living on inside me.

Heartbeat Gasp Heartbeat Gasp

For weeks on end in the sick bay the sister wiped sweat off my forehead
gave me bread, at last, bread, crawled into my bed
and we warmed our cool hearts in a time long absconded.
At night I dreamt of killing, the dying and of a small daughter,
but in times long absconded hope, too, had dissolved.
The war was lost when they sent me to war once again with a stiff arm
to kill, to suffer, to weep, to be silent.
The one enemy left now was hunger
and i killed a farmer for a fistful of potatoes
and i put my gun to an old woman's head for a pot.
And cooked potatoes and smelt home and wept and smelt and ate.

I once was a child, a small boy in a frock, celebrated the emperor's birthday
offered my flag to the wind, willing to grow, to grow tall and strong...

And I smelt and ate and I wept.
Wept for the boy, the shot farmer, the times long absconded, the screams,
the corpses, the arms and the legs and the guts,
for the fatherless children the motherless fathers.
For every unread book and all unwritten letters.
And it lived on inside me, just kept living on.

Heartbeat Gasp Heartbeat Gasp

The battle was over, I just sat, sat and wept and they found me
and put their guns to my head, pushed me forward.
And I knew hot to read how to write how to count and to fire
and now I learned hatred, despise, to surrender and how to forgive.

Then I was free to go home, as a homeless, to a wife and a child,
smelt the wife smelt the child and cooked my potatoes.
The brother a dead, mother and sisters raped,
the father sunken in sorrow,
the friend deported to a concentration camp.
I cooked my potatoes and smelt the child,
smelt the child right until time recurred
and the souls dreamt my dreams,
the brother and the shot farmer,
the woman, the pot and the gassed friend.

And there was a child.
A small girl in a frock, we celebrated her birthday
and her hair flew in the wind,
and she was willing to grow, to grow tall and strong.
And she learned how to read how to write and to count.
And it lived on inside me, just kept living on.

Heartbeat Gasp Heartbeat Gasp

The recurred time sprawled, spread its blanket over the past,
brought books and letters and cars and washing machines, instant mash.
And it kept living on inside me, ever on.
Birthdays flashed by, the child grew and grew strong
and my eyesight impaired and the ears became deaf and what time hid
ascended once more.

It smells like ashes and death.
And the door of the time long absconded is opening up
and no sister to warm my heart.
What lived on inside me surrenders.
My war never ended.
I learned how to read how to write how to count and to fire.
And now I learn how to pass on and how to pardon.
Pardon me.
Pardon!

I once was a child,
a child,
a child...