Not a story of hope but a hopeful poem

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Emanol

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Not a story of hope but a poem that I find strangely hopeful, all the more when the poem is about 5 men who are shot to their deaths. Also a poem that vindicates beauty even, especially when we are confronting death:



1.
They take them out in the morning
to the stone courtyard
and put them against the wall
five men
two of them very young
the others middle-aged

nothing more
can be said about them


2.
when the platoon
level their guns
everything suddenly appears
in the garish light
of obviousness
the yellow wall
the cold blue
the black wire on the wall
instead of a horizon

that is the moment
when the five senses rebel
they would gladly escape
like rats from a sinking ship

before the bullet reaches its destination
the eye will percive the flight of the projectile
the ear record the steely rustle

the nostrils will be filled with biting smoke
a petal of blood will brush the palate
the touch will shrink and then slacken

now they lie on the ground
covered up to their eyes with shadow
the platoon walks away
their buttonstraps
and steel helmets
are more alive
then those lying beside the wall

3.
I did not learn this today
I knew it before yesterday
so why have I been writing
unimportant poems on flowers

what did the five talk of
the night before the execution

of prophetic dreams
of an escapade in a brothel
of automobile parts
of a sea voyage
of how when he had spades
he ought not to have opened
of how vodka is best
after wine you get a headache
of girls
of fruits
of life

thus one can use in poetry
names of Greek shepherds
one can attempt to catch the colour of morning sky
write of love
and also
once again
in dead earnest
offer to the betrayed world
a rose

Zbigniew Herbert
 
Emanol, no... this is not a story of hope.

The more fitting sub-forum to post it is here, the "Other" sub-forum.

(This was in the "Stories of Hope" sub-forum... no hope to be found
suffering death by firing squad.)

PS. Thanks to whoever moved this Thread.
 
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I guess people find hope on different things... I personally find hope in the idea that, even the night before a certain death, there is reason to talk about life, about a past sea voyage, about many things that do not lose their meaning because they are bound to disappear.
 
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