Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

Dracula's Wanderers - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

She was a sorceress,
though not a soul
had known.

Her incantations
could be heard
by no one.
A Magyar
and heir of
Attila, the Hun.
Though fate,
not magic
had transplanted
her to the plains
and gorges
of Dracula.

Moldavia
and Mongolia,
a sprinkle of
the Kasakh,
amidst the Wanderers
from Asia,
the sour-faced
Greek merchants
and the Csabas,
took on the mountains
called Carpathians.

Oh, Dracula,
oh Transylvania,
give me
your Saxons
to re-unite
within the
Fatherland.
And let us
bring her back,
this sorceress,
to drive the Csangos
and the Vlachs
into the hills
to join
the Gypsies,
and then to rob
the Croats and
the Serbs.

And only then
can we resume
the life of Nomads,
of restlessness,
and liberty
and freedom
of the soul.


Comments about Dracula's Wanderers by Herbert Nehrlich

  • Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black (11/5/2008 6:29:00 PM)

    I like anything about Dracula and Romania etc.good poem-no excessive words.I noticed your poetic voice is dry and precise. (Report)Reply

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  • john tiong chunghoojohn tiong chunghoo (7/17/2005 11:19:00 PM)

    dracula
    the last dreg
    of blood
    (Report)Reply

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  • Lawrence S. Pertillar (7/17/2005 10:57:00 PM)

    Hi Herbert. Reading your work is really a history lesson! I wish I knew the history to allow my knowledge to completely obsorb your work! I liked what i read, however.
    LSP
    (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 17, 2005



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