Classic Poem

Dass ich bequem verbluten kann

Give me a nobler, wider field,
Where I, at least, can bleed to death!
Oh do not let me stifle here
Among these hucksters. Give me breath!

They eat and drink with greedy haste,
Dull and complacent as the mole;
Their generosity is large —
As large as, say, the poor-box hole.

Cigar in mouth they stroll along,
Their hands are fat with many a gem;
Their stomachs are both huge and strong —
But who could ever stomach them!

They deal in spices, but the air
Is filled, alas, with something else;
Even their souls pollute the streets
And foul them with their fishy smells.

If they but had some human vice,
Some lust too terrible to see —
But not these flabby virtues, not
This cheap and smug morality!

Ye clouds above, take me away,
To Africa or furthest North.
Even to Pomerania; pray,
Carry me with you — bear me forth!

Take me away . . . They do not hear.
The clouds are wise; they never heed.
For when they see this town they fly —
And anxiously increase their speed.