Hitlers First Photograph
And who's this little fellow in his itty-bitty robe?
That's tiny baby Adolf, the Hitlers little boy!
Will he grow up to be an LL.D.?
Or a tenor in Vienna's Opera House?
Whose teensy hand is this, whose little ear and eye and nose?
Whose tummy full of milk, we just don't know:
printer's, doctor's, merchant's, priest's?
Where will those tootsy-wootsies finally wander?
To garden, to school, to an office, to a bride,
maybe to the Burgermeister's daughter?
Precious little angel, mommy's sunshine, honeybun,
while he was being born a year ago,
there was no dearth of signs on the earth and in the sky:
spring sun, geraniums in windows,
the organ-grinder's music in the yard,
a lucky fortune wrapped in rosy paper,
then just before the labor his mother's fateful dream:
a dove seen in dream means joyful news,
if it is caught, a long-awaited guest will come.
Knock knock, who's there, it's Adolf's heartchen knocking.
A little pacifier, diaper, rattle, bib,
our bouncing boy, thank God and knock on wood, is well,
looks just like his folks, like a kitten in a basket,
like the tots in every other family album.
Shush, let's not start crying, sugar,
the camera will click from under that black hood.
The Klinger Atelier, Grabenstrasse, Braunau,
and Braunau is small but worthy town,
honest businesses, obliging neighbors,
smell of yeast dough, of gray soap.
No one hears howling dogs, or fate's footsteps.
A history teacher loosens his collar
and yawns over homework.
--- Stanislaw Baranczak and
Clare Cavenagh, translators
from The People on the Bridge
This poem by Wislawa Szymborska is one of my favorite poems by her. She won the noble prize in 1996 for Literature. In this chilling poem, we are not only able to see her life experiences (she lived through WWII) but also her poetic genius. My favorite line of this poem is "No one hears howling dogs, or fates footsteps, A history teacher loosens his collar and yawns over his homework." This is such a chilling reminder that we never know what the future holds. She represents this in her example that Adolf Hitler was once a child, just like we were, and yet he turned out to be one of the most menacing human beings in all of humanities history.
I first came across this poem, and Szymborska as a poet, in my Introduction to Literature 170 class. I have been enthralled in Szymborska's poems ever since. Sadly, this wonderful poet died in February of this year. Still she left a legacy of poems that will forever show who she was, and what she had been through. This is one of my all time favorite poems by her, and just in general.
Where will those tootsy-wootsies finally wander?
To garden, to school, to an office, to a bride,
maybe to the Burgermeister's daughter?
Precious little angel, mommy's sunshine, honeybun,
while he was being born a year ago,
there was no dearth of signs on the earth and in the sky:
spring sun, geraniums in windows,
the organ-grinder's music in the yard,
a lucky fortune wrapped in rosy paper,
then just before the labor his mother's fateful dream:
a dove seen in dream means joyful news,
if it is caught, a long-awaited guest will come.
Knock knock, who's there, it's Adolf's heartchen knocking.
A little pacifier, diaper, rattle, bib,
our bouncing boy, thank God and knock on wood, is well,
looks just like his folks, like a kitten in a basket,
like the tots in every other family album.
Shush, let's not start crying, sugar,
the camera will click from under that black hood.
The Klinger Atelier, Grabenstrasse, Braunau,
and Braunau is small but worthy town,
honest businesses, obliging neighbors,
smell of yeast dough, of gray soap.
No one hears howling dogs, or fate's footsteps.
A history teacher loosens his collar
and yawns over homework.
--- Stanislaw Baranczak and
Clare Cavenagh, translators
from The People on the Bridge
This poem by Wislawa Szymborska is one of my favorite poems by her. She won the noble prize in 1996 for Literature. In this chilling poem, we are not only able to see her life experiences (she lived through WWII) but also her poetic genius. My favorite line of this poem is "No one hears howling dogs, or fates footsteps, A history teacher loosens his collar and yawns over his homework." This is such a chilling reminder that we never know what the future holds. She represents this in her example that Adolf Hitler was once a child, just like we were, and yet he turned out to be one of the most menacing human beings in all of humanities history.
I first came across this poem, and Szymborska as a poet, in my Introduction to Literature 170 class. I have been enthralled in Szymborska's poems ever since. Sadly, this wonderful poet died in February of this year. Still she left a legacy of poems that will forever show who she was, and what she had been through. This is one of my all time favorite poems by her, and just in general.
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