"The Dead Liebknecht"
Rudolf Leonhard, Der tote Liebknecht, 1919
His corpse lies throughout the city,
in every courtyard, on every street.
Every room
is matte from the flowing of his blood.
There factory sirens begin,
infinitely long
droning, to yawn,
to echo hollowly throughout the city.
And with a gleam
on bright
rigid teeth
his corpse begins
to grin.
---
Hugh MacDiarmid
