Ernst Stadler: Summer

A poem a day
International WWI Poetry Month


Ernst Stadler (Germany, 1914)

My heart’s standing up to its neck in yellow reaping light:
land that is ready to be harvested while the heavens smile.
A scythe-rattling singing will be heard through the fields soon.

My blood, in its marinade of happiness, attends,
absorbed completely by the noon heat.

The barns, the silos of my existence, bare for so long,
will let their entrances swing wide as lock-gates
and over the floors a golden vintage, an inundation, flow.