War Poetry

Trench Post And Field Watch

Rise and awake, it is the hour!
The patrol makes the rounds
And examines each man on watch
Standing on the loamy mud-wall
Peering through the night,
Listening for every echo,
Rifle cocked.
Up and awake for your comrades!

Hear, they snore without restful sleep
Buried into their gloomy lairs
In which the foe lives in their dreams,
But no-one budges.
So, when each man creeps out with the patrol
Only the full moon
And the waking stars
Silently greet the far-away Homeland.

So, now you are standing in the little forest of field guards
Where the enemy, from every fold in the earth
Squints out of the trees,
Squat, all of you, properly hid.
If you are discovered
Then – good shot!
How the turnip-leaves wave like humans,
As if they are rushing en mass – against us!

No, from there – is the swarm of fire from there?

Now pay attention and sound the alarm at once.
The singing from telegraph poles
And nothing else. – but a whiplash sound
Strikes near your ear. It was but a sound
And the bullet flew past.
But ahead, where the enemy watches in the forest
You can hear the crashing of their rifles.

Quiet then, restless cool emptiness,
Close your tired lids, heavy with sleep,
Shake yourself and do not give in,
Do not go to sleep,
But think: you are all alone
On watch here;
Sleepers that only have eyes like your own
Sleep around you in the trenches.

And –halt, who goes there! – they come running
Dark men, deeply rooted in the earth,
They call the well-known password;
Your ear also knows the brave voices,
Friend: shoot your rifle.
They are there! Soon you will be relieved!
Whomever then is on watch – for me—I bless him
May nothing worse befall him.

By Walter Heymann
Translated from the German by Peter Appelbaum