Spring '11 TOC
they will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks1
i come from black-metal blood
ich komme
hammered hot and hard forged with flaming yellow-orange fire drawn deep from drafts and Deutschlandlied
i become iron-blood for Berlin
ich werde
upsetting uncut steel under Soviet stares punching pistons to pulverize Poles sculpting swords and shields for submission
strike, Völundr, in the smelting volcano smith and smoke the skulls of sons finish them with files and flint
jeder ist seines glückes schmied
grinding stones stop spinning abrasive armor apprehended for art greater gods cast gold and gems
i reform in crafted copper capillaries
ich läutere
melting medals from military might fanning federal filigree into fashion stroking steel and stones to surrender
i form colored crystal constellations
ich forme
bent bronze beside knitted beads drizzled diamonds decorating driftwood polished pewter pampering pearls
nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore2
1. Isaiah 2:4a. 2. Isaiah 2:4b.
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