Sonnenblumen

Die Blümelein, sie schlafen

Natanya’s eyes twitched from soldat’s one open eye to her brother at her side. She reached for his hand, limp with fear, and squeezed. Everywhere were sunflowers, so yellow tall, yet soldat found them in that field among the bees and brightness.

His eye darted off the iron sight of his rifle to her hand then back. He was going to shoot Moysa, Natanya knew, and then she would be unbearably alone.

She spun to face her twin brother and pressed her body and lips to his, her heart to his heart, her breast without bloom, his voice without bass, their last moment in love.

Solitary metal from a solitary man, piercing and final, took two at once. Obersoldat Sonnenblum was pleased. As he walked through the sunflowers he thought of his grandmother. She told him that if he slept with one under his pillow he would be filled with wisdom. At night, she would sing him to sleep:

The little flowers are sleeping
Already well under the moonlight,
They bow their heads
On their stems.
The flower tree is rustling,
It whispers as in a dream:
Sleep, sleep, you sleep, my little child.

The little birds, they warbled
so sweetly in the sun,
they have gone to slumber
in their little nests.
The cricket on the blade of grass,
Only he coos softly:
Go to sleep, go to sleep, my precious child!

The sandman comes creeping
and peeks through the window,
to see if still a child
might not yet be in bed.
And where he finds even one child,
he scatters the sand in his eyes.
Go to sleep, go to sleep, my precious child!

The sandman exits from the room,
my darling sleeps so well,
his eyes are shuttered firmly,
quite tightly locked the lids.
The welcome dawn illuminates
those little eyes so pure!
Go to sleep, go to sleep, my precious child!