9 2 D O C U M E N T 8 9 P O E M F O R G R Ü N B E R G 89. Poem for Josef Grünberg[1] [Berlin, 17 November 1927][2] Feelings are very mixed when You, boldly escaping the city’s Hustle and bustle, sneak away In the morning to this house.[3] — After ringing, ding, ding, ding, At first it goes pretty well. The Valkyrie kindly opens the door And leads you to the battlefield. — Always cheery and carefree Bolschi[4] says good morning to you While now one wonders What he’s got in mind. — Heroic is the feeling If you then sit on that chair Motor hums, drill bores in From then on you’re an object. — With a sweet smile, she nimbly Hands him the instrument. What follows then everyone feels My pen’s reluctant to go on.— — If you come here in the evening It looks completely different Profound bachelor peace Such as only a few enjoy — Bolschi’s radiant and as if bewitched You enter into wonderland. Soon all worries are forgotten Merry conversation, good food —