READING: Heinrich Heine: "Þe Silesian Weavers"
From the Hungry 1840s...
Heinrich Heine: The Silesian Weavers:
‘Their gloom-enveloped eyes are tearless,
They sit at the spinning wheel, snarling cheerless:
"Germany, we weave your funeral shroud,
A threefold curse be within it endowed-
We’re weaving, we’re weaving!
A curse on God to whom we knelt
When hunger and winter’s cold we felt,
To whom we flocked in vain and cried,
Who mocked us and poxed us and cast us aside,
We’re weaving, we’re weaving!
A curse on the king, the wealthy men’s chief
Who was not moved even by our grief
Who wrenched the last coin from our hand of need,
And shot us, screaming like dogs in the street!
We’re weaving, we’re weaving!
A curse on this lying father-nation
Where thrive only shame and degradation,
Where every flower’s plucked ere it’s bloom
And worms thrive in the dank rot and gloom-
We’re weaving, we’re weaving!
O shuttle fly! Loom crank away!
We weave unfailing, night and day-
Old Germany, we weave your funeral shroud,
A threefold curse be within it endowed-
We’re weaving, we’re weaving!