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World War II Poems and Holocaust Poems - III - Miklos Radnoti Miklos Radnoti was one of the greatest of the Jewish Holocaust poets. He died on a Nazi death march, shot to death in cold blood, and the poems below were found on his body by his wife after the war ended. Postcard 1 by Miklós Radnóti written August 30,1944 translated by Michael R. Burch Out of Bulgaria, the great wild roar of the artillery thunders, resounds on the mountain ridges, rebounds, then ebbs into silence while here men, beasts, wagons and imagination all steadily increase; the road whinnies and bucks, neighing; the maned sky gallops; and you are eternally with me, love, constant amid all the chaos, glowing within my conscience — incandescent, intense. Somewhere within me, dear, you abide forever — still, motionless, mute, like an angel stunned to silence by death or a beetle hiding in the heart of a rotting tree. Postcard 2 by Miklós Radnóti written October 6,1944 near Crvenka, Serbia translated by Michael R. Burch A few miles away they're incinerating the haystacks and the houses, while squatting here on the fringe of this pleasant meadow, the shell-shocked peasants sit quietly smoking their pipes. Now, here, stepping into this still pond, the little shepherd girl sets the silver water a-ripple while, leaning over to drink, her flocculent sheep seem to swim like drifting clouds. Postcard 3 by Miklós Radnóti written October 24,1944 near Mohács, Hungary translated by Michael R. Burch The oxen dribble bloody spittle; the men pass blood in their piss. Our stinking regiment halts, a horde of perspiring savages, adding our aroma to death's repulsive stench. Postcard 4 by Miklós Radnóti his final poem, written October 31,1944 near Szentkirályszabadja, Hungary translated by Michael R. Burch I toppled beside him — his body already taut, tight as a string just before it snaps, shot in the back of the head. "This is how you'll end too; just lie quietly here, " I whispered to myself, patience blossoming from dread. "Der springt noch auf, " the voice above me jeered; I could only dimly hear through the congealing blood slowly sealing my ear. Translator's note: "Der springt noch auf" means something like "That one is still twitching." Letter to My Wife by Miklós Radnóti translated by Michael R. Burch Written in Lager Heidenau, in the mountains above Zagubica, August-September,1944 Deep down in the darkness hell waits—silent, mute. Silence screams in my ears, so I shout, but no one hears or answers, wherever they are; while sad Serbia, astounded by war, and you are so far, so incredibly distant. Still my heart encounters yours in my dreams and by day I hear yours sound in my heart again; and so I am still, even as the great mountain ferns slowly stir and murmur around me, coldly surrounding me. When will I see you? How can I know? You who were calm and weighty as a Psalm, beautiful as a shadow, more beautiful than light, the One I could always find, whether deaf, mute, blind, lie hidden now by this landscape; yet from within you flash on my sight like flickering images on film. You once seemed real but now have become a dream; you have tumbled back into the well of teenage fantasy. I jealously question whether you'll ever adore me; whether—speak!— from youth's highest peak you will yet be my wife. I become hopeful again, as I awaken on this road where I formerly had fallen. I know now that you are my wife, my friend, my peer— but, alas, so far! Beyond these three wild frontiers, fall returns. Will you then depart me? Yet the memory of our kisses remains clear. Now sunshine and miracles seem disconnected things. Above me I see a bomber squadron's wings. Skies that once matched your eyes' blue sheen have clouded over, and in each infernal machine the bombs writhe with lust to dive. Despite them, somehow I remain alive. Keywords/Tags: Miklos Radnoti, World War II, Holocaust, Shoah, genocide, ethnic cleansing, race, racism, antisemitism, evil, brutality, inhumanity, Nazi, Nazis, concentration camps, death camps, war, world, truth, horror, mass murder
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