time for a poem

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The eighth grade students I looked after all came around the corner last Friday with an Advent poem that I recognized immediately. This poem, which has the simple name “Advent”, was written by Oriole published for the first time on December 7, 1969 and, at least at the time, met with strong criticism. In 1971 the poem also appeared as a printed text in “Loriots Kleine Prose”.

I first learned about the poem in the mid to late 1970s when my sister brought it home from school. In the meantime everyone's approach to this poem must have been a little more relaxed, because on the one hand it was school material and on the other hand we both found it quite funny. So funny that we recited it to our parents together during Advent. Whether we both recognized the explosive power of this poem at the time is doubtful, but one thing is certain: it didn't take us long to be able to recite it from memory.

And it is probably due to this fact that the poem is still handed out to students today. There is one difference, however: if the performance of the poem was graded back then, it was because you could not only recite it in its entirety, but also provide it with the appropriate intonation - if possible also taking into account the couplets and iambs.

Today, according to the text sheet handed out, there is a 4 for the first verse, a 3 for the second verse, a two for the third verse and a 1 for the fourth verse. The students no longer trust the rest of the poem! The students I supervised only wanted to get a 4, I was able to encourage them to get a 3. And one was even able to consider a 2.

What surprised me a little was that none of the students found the poem funny. When I explained the meaning of the poem to them and, above all, translated the more difficult words into simple German, they found the poem disgusting.

Almost 40 years reveal a huge difference between the student generations. And so it was from the teachers who chose this poem - probably on the occasion of the hundredth birthday of Bernhard-Viktor von Bülow (Oriole) — certainly well-intentioned, but unfortunately not successful.

Now I hope that my readers enjoy the poem a little more. In the meantime, I'm trying not to get in the way of my better half too much when it comes to home care - which is completely out of time!

Advent

The night is blue. The little stars are blinking. 
Little snowflakes sink down quietly. 
On Edeltännlein's green top 
a small white corner accumulates. 

And there, breaking through from the window 
A warm light filled the dark. 
Kneeling in the forester's lodge by the candlelight 
the forester in the men's room. 

On this beautiful night 
she killed the forester. 
He was her in-home care 
has been very much in the way for a long time. 

This is how she agreed with herself:
It has to be on Nicklaus evening. 
And when the deer went to rest, 
the little bunny closed his eyes, 

Killed them - right from the front 
– the husband above all else. 
Awakened by the bang, only the rabbit sniffs
two, three, four times the sniff. 

And continue to rest sweetly in the dark, 
Meanwhile the little stars twinkle sweetly. 
And in the living room inside, 
the forester's blood runs from there. 

Now the forester has to hurry 
to divide the husband cleanly. 
She quickly has him down to the bone 
set off according to Waidmann's custom. 

She places limb on limb with great care 
– what the husband has avoided so far –
Retains part of the fillet, 
as a festive roast piece. 

And packs up at the end - it goes to four - 
the leftovers in wrapping paper. 
It's ringing in the distance like silver bells. 
You can hear dogs barking in the village. 

Who is it in such a deep night? 
still making his rounds in the snow? 
Knecht Ruprecht comes with a golden sleigh 
rode up on a deer! 

“Heh, good woman, do you still have things? 
bring joy to poor people?” 
The forester's house is covered in deep snow,
but his wife is already ready: 

“The six packages, holy man, 
'It's all I can give!'
The silver bells ring softly. 
Knecht Ruprecht sets off on his journey. 

The candle is burning in the forester's house. 
A little star blinks: It's Advent.

Loriot, December 7, 1969

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