If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert)
while snows flies, chill, after so frequent knew
so many all nothing,
for lead & fire, it's not we would assert
particulars, but animal; cats mew,
horses scream, man sing.

Or: men pslam. Man palms his ears and moans.
Death is a German expert. Scrambling, sitting,
spattering, we hurry.
I try to. Odd & trivial, atones
somehow for my escape a bullet splitting
my trod-on instep, fiery.

The cantor bubbled, rattled. The Temple burned.
Lurch with me! phantoms of Varshava. Slop!
When I used to be,
who haunted, stumbling, sewers, my sacked shop,
roofs, a dis-world ai! Death was a German
home-country.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1027 times | Comments (0)

Poet: John Berryman (John Berryman Art)
Poem: 41. Dream Song 41: If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert)
Volume: 77 Dream Songs
Year: Published/Written in 1964
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Dream Song 41: If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert), has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by John Berryman with others on the American Poems poetry forum!