Fleurs du Mal Magazine
Den Toten der Revolution
Todgeweihte Leiber
trotzig gestemmt
Wider den Bund
der rohen Bedränger,
Löschte Euch Schicksal
mit dunkler Gebärde.
Wer die Pfade bereitet,
stirbt an der Schwelle,
Doch es neigt sich vor ihm
in Ehrfurcht der Tod.
Ernst Toller
(1893 – 1939)
Den Toten der Revolution
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive S-T, Archive S-T, Toller, Ernst
Poem from Burma
Brush your teeth up and down, brother,
Oh, brush them up and down!
All the folks in London Town
Brush their teeth right up and down,
Oh! How they shine!
Aren’t they bloody fine?
Night and morning, my brother,
Oh brush them up and down!”
George Orwell
(1903 – 1950)
Poem from Burma
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive O-P, Archive O-P, George Orwell, Orwell, George
My Land
A new land, like a stainless flower set
In the green foliage of the waving sea;
Or like a maiden whose fair heart is free,
Whose honest eyes with no sad tears are wet,
Whose bosom has no passion to forget,
But thrills and lifts exuberant, as she
Voices some sudden-flooding melody!
A land of strength, life, vigour, youth — and yet
An old land, grey as I, her child, am grey;
Filled with the whispers of old thoughts that stir
And wake, like shadows of the past that play
Deep in the beauty of a child’s grave eyes,
And show beneath life’s gladness glancing there
The pathos of a hundred histories.
Arthur Adams
(1872-1936)
My Land
• fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Adams, Arthur, Archive A-B, Archive A-B
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