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a different kind of poem

Posted: Sat May 20, 2006 11:42 pm
by Sergi the snail
This is a poem of my friend Karl he has not as much English as me and I helped him to translate it was difficult as the poem is ment to be quite vauge
well anyway here it is

No Bleating at the Slaughterhouse


From Krakow they came
rosy of cheek and quick to laugh,
a knotted tie in a gilded mirror
was the last civilised act before
being dragged outdoors
where they became, cattle.
Their lost luggage,
a polished shoe
turned up, finally..
outside the gates
of Belsen.

Re: a different kind of poem

Posted: Sun May 21, 2006 1:08 am
by Louis P. Burns aka Lugh
Sergi the snail wrote:This is a poem of my friend Karl he has not as much English as me and I helped him to translate it was difficult as the poem is ment to be quite vauge
well anyway here it is

No Bleating at the Slaughterhouse


From Krakow they came
rosy of cheek and quick to laugh,
a knotted tie in a guilded mirror
was the last civilised act before
being dragged outdoors
where they became, cattle.
Their lost luggage,
a polished shoe
turned up, finally..
outside the gates
of BELSEN.
I like this Sergi. It might need a few tweaks to it to create proper tense and tension in the English language, but it's powerfully packed full of imagery...

Thanks for sharing your friend Karl's poem...

Posted: Sun May 21, 2006 11:05 pm
by Sergi the snail
I should give you some background to this poem it will make more sense

My friend Karls father told him that as a boy his neighbors a jewish family were taken away in the middle of the night by the SS he remembers the kind father of the family being very careful that his tie was straight and he looked neat and respectable before he was taken away

this always struck him has very sad when he thought of how low and to what terrible horrors the family would face in the coming months

Posted: Mon May 22, 2006 9:20 am
by Catherine Edmunds
Strong writing. One typo; guilded should have been gilded (different word and different meaning). Also, I wouldn't have put Belsen in capitals. Less is more often in poetry. No need to shout the word. More shivers down the spine if its whispered.

My mother lost all her immediate family apart from one brother in the holocaust. It's hard for us to imagine. She's always advocated people keeping the memories alive, however, in the hope that history will not inadvertantly repeat itself. We need warnings and reminders.

Posted: Tue May 23, 2006 12:52 am
by Sergi the snail
advice kindly recieved and taken
ty Delph