Tag Archives: poetry

A Curse For England

A Curse For England by William Blake

A curse for England

false and base

Where nothing can prosper

but disgrace

Where crushed is each

flower’s tender form

And decay and corruption

feed the worm,

The winner’s shout, the

loser’s curse

Go with Old England’s black

funeral hearse!


The Cloistered Ones

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We greet you from deep silence,

Which is like a pond full of water lilies,

Hushed is the nightingale and the frog and the cricket,

Where all move as Spirits, weightless.

And there is a gliding of white lights,

When we fly through the fog in the nights.

We see you with vitreous faces

lying like the dead in your beds.

We greet you. In forgotten life

Where day calls you back, again like new.

without memory, without remorse.

Eberhard Wolfgang Moller, translated into English by Hermitage Helm and published in Songs Of The Reich.


Siegfried’s Death by Kurt Eggers

Siegfrieds Death

by Kurt Eggers

Horned man,

Who once defeated the Dragon,

Whose helm

Of Victory wore light frost:

Horned man,

Your armour

Had a breach

Into which the enemy’s

Throwing Spear penetrated.

Horned man:

Your fate is command:

Folk become whole!

Folk become German!

Then the enemies’

Murder plan fails!

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Rise My Sons

Rise My Sons

By Robert J. Matthews

 

Sons of Odin, Sons of Thor,

Kings of the cold sea;

O gods, we go to do you honor.

Who can stand against us?

See us, we go feed the Ravens

With your enemies

And to make the wound-dew

Run red upon the grass.

Men of the mountains, go forth!

Carry the title of liberty high;

Meet the enemy with righteous might

And with fury, drive him into the sea.

Fight my sons!

Fight for the green graves of your Sires.

Be you a shield and protect the blood kindred

People of your soil;

Reclaim our sacred ground for Aryan man and Aryan woman.

Let the seas run red with the blood

Of the fleeting alien hordes;

Go forth, my sons and carry the banner

Of your people high!

In the midst of battle I will be at your side;

Victory will be Ours!

bob_mathews


An die Deutschen

An die Deutschen

by Friedrich Holderlin

Never mock the child when the silly creature

Thinks himself so glorious and big sitting on his wooden horse,

O my good friends, we too are

Poor in deed and rich in thought!

But will the deed perhaps emerge from thought,

Fully fledged and inspired, like a flash from the clouds?

Does the fruit follow the quiet written word

As it follows dark leaves of the grove?

And the people’s silence, is it celebration

Before the feast, the fear that announces god?

O seize me, dear friends, so I’ll

Pay for these blasphemous words.

Too long, too long I’ve strayed like a layman

In this emerging workshop of the sculpting spirit,

Only what blooms do I see,

What he’s planting I don’t.

And its sweet to guess at this, yet a sorrow as well,

And I’ve spent too many years already

Lost in mortal, senseless love,

Doubting, always moved in his presence,

He who from his loving soul always brings

His constant work nearer to me, smiles

At this mortal man where I lose heart,

And ripens the pure depth of life.

O Creator, O when, genius of our Volk,

When will you wholly appear, soul of the Fatherland,

That I may bow more deeply,

That my quietest string

Might fall silent before you, that I, ashamed,

A flower of night, O heavenly day, might

End before you in joy,

When all of them with whom

I used to mourn, when our cities grow

Bright and open, awake, full of purer fire,

And the mountains of the German

Lands become the Mountains of the Muses

As the glorious one once were, Pindus and Helicon,

And Parnassus, and under

The Fatherland’s golden sky the spiritual joy

Gleams free and clear all around.

All too limited is the time of life,

We observe and count out our numbers of years,

But has a mortal eye

Observed the years of a Nation?

When your soul ever longing, soars

Beyond its time, you linger in grief

On freezing shores

With your own and don’t know them,

And as for the future ones, the promised ones,

Where, where do you glimpse them that you might once

Again find a warm and friendly hand

And be heard by a single simple soul?

The halls, poor seer, have given            no echo

For years, longing your eyes grow dim

And you slump down in sleep,

Nameless, unwept.

But you!

judge

When he saw him,

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The Song Of Don Ramon

The Song Of Don Ramon

By D.H. Lawrence

What is God, we shall never know!

But the Sons of God come and go.

They come from beyond  the Morning Star;

And thither they return from the land of men.

Mary and Jesus have left you and gone to the place of renewal.

And Quetzalcoatl  has come. He is here.

He is your Lord.

Those that follow me, must cross the mountains of the sky,

And shall pass the houses of the stars by night.

They shall find me only in the Morning Star.

But those that will not follow, must not peep.

Peeping, they will lose their sight, and lingering, they will fall very

lame.

Chile & Argentina 260


The New Race

The New Race 

by Baldur von Schirach

 

Never served yet we are Soldiers,

we have never fought a real War,

a war of bullets and grenades.

And yet we know battles and victories-

no, not a war such as our scars suggest,

and yet it was War! For many, many have died…

 

We are all free, yet now we see in Service

more Freedom than in personal demands.

We sit at desks, we stand by our machines,

Hundreds of thousands with one Soul.

We are the heretics, we are the deeply pious,

of today, of yesterday, and what Cometh.

 

Excerpt from the upcoming release of Songs Of The Reich, to be released for the first time here on Siddharreich, on Fuhrertag – 20th April 2016. This is the poetical book that the Torch Bearers have created to present to the Ehreans of this world, to inspire them and unify them; through poetry, poetry previously untranslated from the Third Reich, poetry that would have remained untranslated without our collaborative efforts, and poetry from the post-War period all the way up to the present day, following a divine thin Golden Line, as if hands rising together from distant fields reached out all at once, from those whom have fallen so far from the Fatherland, their Loyalty still rises like towers above the barren wastelands of this tormented earth. We may be dispersed, we may be lost, but our silent songs of great longing echo around the earth as the swinging branches of dying oaks move to nocturnal breaths.