Buchenwald Goethe November poem and Jaques Lusseyran
Buchenwald Concentration Camp was previously a beech forest where Goethe walked and wrote. One oak tree remained in the camp which held 100,000 prisoners and is now a memorial stump. November Song To the great archer—not to him To meet whom flies the sun, And who is wont his features dim With clouds to overrun— But to the boy be vow'd these rhymes, Who 'mongst the roses plays, Who hear us, and at proper times To pierce fair hearts essays. Through him the gloomy winter night, Of yore so cold and drear, Brings many a loved friend to our sight, And many a woman dear. Henceforward shall his image fair Stand in yon starry skies, And, ever mild and gracious there, Alternate set and rise. +++ November Lied - Goethe 1 Dem Schützen, doch dem alten nicht, 2 Zu dem die Sonne flieht, 3 Der uns ihr fernes Angesicht 4 Mit Wolken überzieht, 5 Dem Knaben sei dies Lied geweiht, 6