Hans Magnus Enzensberger Poems

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Middle Class Blues

We can't complain.
We're not out of work.
We don't go hungry.
We eat.

A Song For Those Who Know

Something must be done right away
that much we know
but of course it's too soon to act
but of course it's too late in the day

The Great Goddess

She works away day and night,
bent over her darning-egg,
an end of thread between her lips,
mending all manner ofthings.

For The Sixth Form Reader

don't read odes, my son, read time tables:
they're more exact. unroll the sea charts
before it's too late. be vigilant, don't sing.
the day will come they nail lists to the gate

The Visit

When I looked up from my blank page
there was an angel in the room.
A rather common place angel,
presumably of lower rank.

To All Telephone Subscribers

something that has no colour, something
that smells of nothing, something tenacious
is dripping from the amplifier bureaus,
is hardening into the seams of time

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