In 1936, a child
in Hitler's Germany,
what did I know about the war in Spain?
Andalusia was a tango
on a wind-up gramophone,
Franco a hero's face in the paper.
No one told me about a poet
for whose sake I might have learned Spanish
bleeding to death on a barren hill.
All I knew of Spain
were those precious imported treats
we splurged on for Christmas.
I remember pulling the sections apart,
lining them up, sucking each one
slowly, so the red sweetness
would last and last --
while I was reading a poem
by a long-dead German poet
in which the woods stood safe
under the moon's milky eye
and the white fog in the meadows
aspired to become lighter than air.
Lisel Mueller's Other Poems
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Blood Oranges by Lisel Mueller )
- Discovering God's Will, Tom Zart
- Shining later, hasmukh amathalal
- Memory, Liffy Liu
- Merciful and kind, hasmukh amathalal
- Achilles Awaking, Louis Borgo
- Escape to free, Liffy Liu
- Am I the sun?, gajanan mishra
- Money Or Value, Louis Borgo
- Peace be unto you!, gajanan mishra
- No road sense, hasmukh amathalal
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