Deutschland. Ein Wintermärchen

Minden is a mighty fortress,
Well armed, with good protection!
With Prussian fortresses, however,
I’d rather have no connection.

We arrived there as evening fell;
The draw-bridge planks started groaning
Chillingly, as we moved across.
Beneath us, the dark moats were yawning.

The tall bastions looked down at me
So angrily, so threatening…
The great gate opened with a rattle
And shut again, equally deafening.

Ah! My soul was as troubled
As was once Odysseus’s own soul,
When he heard Polyphemus’s rock
Rolling down to block the cavern’s hole.

A corporal neared, and asked our names:
He demanded immediate compliance.
“My name is Noman, I am oculist,
I remove scales from the eyes of giants.”

I felt much worse when I reached the inn,
Even the food was not so great.
I went straight to bed, but couldn’t sleep,
I was disturbed by the bed-cover’s weight.

It was a wide feather-bed,
Its damask curtains were red,
The canopy was of a faded gold,
With a dirty tassel at the head.

Accursed tassel! All night long,
I tossed in bed, sleepless!
It hung, threatening above my head,
Like the sword of Damocles!

Sometimes it looked like a snake’s head,
And I could hear it hiss at me:
“You’re in the fortress now for good,
And never again you’ll be free!”

I sighed: “O, how I wish I were home,
Back in the Faubourg Poissonière,
In Paris, with my darling wife,
O, how I wish I were there!”

Sometimes I felt as if something
Was brushed across my forehead,
Just like a censor’s icy hand,
And then my reason fled.

Gendarmes, wrapped in burial shrouds,
A crowd of white ghosts, whirled around
My bed, and I also heard
Uncanny clanks of chains resound.

Alas! The ghosts dragged me away,
And I found myself at last
Upon a steep and rocky wall;
There, they bound me fast.

That evil, filthy bed-tassel!
Once more, I found it there,
But now, it looked like a vulture
With claws, and black of feather.

It looked like the Prussian eagle now!
Its claws gripped my body, my liver
Is eaten out of my chest....
O, how I did moan and quiver!

I lamented long, and then the cock crowed,
And the feverish vision fled.
I laid in Minden, sweating in bed,
The eagle became a tassel above my head.

I travelled by a special post,
And the first free air I found
Was outside, in open country,
On good old Bügenburger ground.

Germany. A Winter’s Tale

Caput XVIII