Four executions.
As reported by Kölnische Zeitung, on October 5, in Berlin, the civil servant Frintz Pahnke (64), the office clerk Johann Dombrowski (54), the employee Fritz Groszpietsch (56), and the typist Dorothea Fonden (41), who had been sentenced to death by the People‘s Court, were executed. These four individuals had spread a politically inflammatory poem at their office, the Wohlfahrtsamt Horst Wessel in Berlin, which, in its unparalleled deceitfulness and malice, was intended to sow hatred and discord and shake the belief in the German final victory. With this contemptible conduct, they attacked from the rear the German people, who are engaged in a fierce struggle for their freedom. Their meanness, attitude and behaviour deserve only one punishment: death. – October 19, 1943
They seek to make a new escape
Appealing to you,
As I read it, I feel tempted,
To laugh heartily and loudly.
But no, I’d better not,
I must refrain,
I go without it,
To avoid being caught by the Nazis.
For then I’d be in trouble,
Recently I read in the newspaper,
Human blood was shed,
Yes, because of distribution
Of just a single poem,
Four people had to die,
The verdict of this “People’s” court,
Would ruin me too.
Four lives for just one poem,
I ask myself with surprise,
What would happen to me,
I have nearly four hundred.
And all quite explosive,
And very anti-fascist,
Yes, if something went wrong for me,
Then I’d be pessimistic.
My poetry is like dynamite,
It’s nitroglycerinic,
It breaks the Führer building’s granite,
Satirical, mocking, cynical.
But I can leave the explosive function,
To the British,
They will deliver to Adolf Hitler’s throne
The final blow.
From time to time I feel sorry
That on this occasion,
Some blows may also hit you,
But alas, you were too sluggish.
The punishment hits you from the air,
It’s the end of your dreams,
Soon Adolf’s power will deflagrate,
Then there’ll be much to clean up.
The heaps of rubble have to go,
And the streets be free again,
It is not much what Hitler‘s murder
Left behind for you.
And your minds must be free
From those delusions,
That Hitler, Göring, Goebbels, Ley,
Sowed in your heads.
So my poetry has a purpose:
To ventilate your minds,
And remove from them
Goebbels‘ propaganda filth.
It’s a mental ,
That will rid you of the Nazi faith,
The cause of your deep downfall,
Definitely to be eradicated.
For years, Mr. Goebbels has
Poisoned your thinking,
Now, thank heavens,
Your minds are being aired out.
In my poetry, I want to
Wash out your head properly,
You believed so much nonsense,
It will surprise you.
My poetry acts in your minds
Like a great cleaning,
No, really, damn,
There’s nothing to laugh about.
It’s a mental enema,
That will surely purge you,
You may correct many errors
Afterwards.
I wish you and wish the world,
That from a flock of sheep,
The German people, however difficult it may be,
Will become a nation of humans.
Post-Editing: Robert Saunders
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