Sunshine hangs cold in the branches so bare,
Fuming the city behind me and vain,
Streets full of putrid and hate and disdain,
Fighting and curses and screams and dispair.
Over the lake in the forest the blades
Cutting a raggedy line in the snows.
Over the quaking and quivering floes
Suddenly rises a scream and then fades.
There is my brother and claws with his hand
Crumbling ice. Where the black waters shine,
Charon has tied his boat to the land.
Slowly I near, our fingers entwine
Greeting the ferryman, holding the friend
Drinking of Lethe's red-flowing wine.
This sonnet is originally written in German to
commemorate the 100th anniversay of Georg Heym's
accidental death. The original can be found under German
poems with the title "Am Wannsee".Authors comment
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Wolfgang Steinmann. Published on e-Stories.org on 14.01.2012.