This is my dad’s favourite poem which he remembers from his childhood, ‘Dunkel wars der Mond schien helle’, ‘It was dark but the moon shone bright’. There are many slightly different versions of this anonymous poem. My dad finds it funny in some parts and what he really likes is the flow which it has in German. Sadly, when it is translated into English it doesn’t have the same rhythm or rhyme but nearly every line is still an oxymoron. Even though the poem is a bit confusing at some parts, the paradoxical images make you think. For example, “ inside people were sitting standing up, silently engaged in conversation”. “Standing” contrasts “sitting” and “silently” contrasts a “conversation” which involves talking, so this image is intriguing and thought-provoking. I think oxymorons make a great genre of poetry.
Dunkel war’s der Mond schien helle,
Schnee lag auf der grünen Flur,
Als ein Wagen blitzeschnelle
langsam um die Ecke fuhr.
Drinnen saßen stehend Leute,
schweigend ins Gespräch vertieft,
als ein totgeschoss’ner Hase
auf der Sandbank Schlittschuh lief.
Auf einer grünen Bank,
die rot angestrichen war
saß ein holder Jüngling,
schwarzgelockt mit blondem Haar,
Neben ihm ‘ne alte Schachtel,
Zählte kaum ein halbes Jahr,
In der Hand ‘ne Butterwecke,
Die mit Schmalz bestrichen war.
It was dark, but the moon shone bright,
Snow lay on the green meadow
As a lightning fast car
Drove slowly around the corner.
Inside people were sitting standing up,
silently engaged in conversation,
as a dead hare
was skating on the sandbank.
On a green bench, painted in red
There sat a young,
Handsome blond boy
With curly black hair,
Next to him an old frump,
Barely six months old
In her hand a slice of bread and butter
Spread with dripping.
What do you see?
Inside or outside?
Young woman or old woman?