Selected Poems and Prose

Gottfried Benn, David Paisey

• Publisher: Fyfield Books
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781847771506
• eBook ISBN: 9781847775092
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Poetry
• Index: Literature

Gottfried Benn ranks among the most significant German poets of the twentieth century. His early work, with its shockingly graphic depictions of human suffering and degradation, was associated with the Expressionist movement; the overriding theme of his later work was the isolation and fragmentation of the human being adrift in a nihilistic world. David Paisey here presents two selections, of verse and prose respectively, from Benn's large oeuvre, ordered chronologically to enable readers to perceive the developments of Benn's art and thought. The original German text of the poems is also included. In an important biographical introduction, Paisey tackles the difficult question of Benn's compliance with the Nazi regime and its impact on his life and work.

POEMS

Schluss

1913

I

The spittoon-glass –

not remotely a match

for such great green tepid floods –

crashed down at last.

The mouth dropped after it. Hung deep. Sucked

back vomit convulsively. Disappointed

any trust. Gave stones for bread

to the breathless blood.

II

The little bundle smelled like a chicken-coop,

beat to and fro. Grew. Fell still.

The granddaughter played the old game:

when grannie’s asleep:

around the collarbones there were such hollows

she hid beans in them.

In the throat you could even fit a ball,

if you blew the dust out.

III

His thing was a spittoon with plumstones.

He crawled over and bit them open.

They threw him back in his bunk,

and the madman died in his straw.

Towards evening the head keeper came

and gave the attendants an earful:

You lazy damned beasts,

why is this box not cleared out yet?

IV

For weeks her children had been looking after her

when they came home from school,

holding her head up,

then there was some air-movement and she could sleep.

One of them bent over unintentionally

and the head fell out of its hands.

Turned round. Hung across her shoulder

deep blue.

V Requiem

A coffin gets to work, an empty bed.

When you consider: a couple of hours wasted

to silent night now find themselves translated

and floating in the cloudscape overhead.

How white they are! The lips as well. Like smudges

at the edge of snow across the winter land,

comforting snow, redeemed from deceitful colours,

hill and valley held in an open hand.

Near and far are one in perfect balance.

The flakes blow over fields, then rapturous

blow on, the world’s last flickering mere absence.

O scarcely dreamt! The distant happiness!

Nice childhood

1912

The mouth of a girl who had lain long in the reeds

looked kind of nibbled.

When we sectioned the thorax, the gullet was full of holes.

Finally, in a pocket under the diaphragm

we found a nest of young rats.

One little sister lay dead.

The others lived on liver and kidney,

drank cold blood and had had

a nice childhood here.

Their death was nice too, and quick:

we threw them all in the water.

Ah, how the little muzzles squeaked!

2323...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Translator’s Preface
• Biographical Introduction
• POEMS
• PROSE
• Index of Poem Titles and First Lines (English)
• Index of Poem Titles and First Lines (German)
• About the Author
• Copyright