1 9 0 D O C . 1 9 7 P O E M F O R T O N I M E N D E L 197. Poem for Toni Mendel [Berlin, on or before 18 May 1928][1] I, Frau Mendel, may half-baked be But on this day I’ll still turn fifty. No harm done! Thin like Juno I can handle anyone—except Bruno.[2] Except from him, you see, I shall from no one flee. A modest housewife I am not I tell you that now on the spot Others may bake and sew But that won’t make me glow. My mind likes to range free If I’m not away at sea. Pursuing wisdom am I ever, And my zeal slackens never. Philosophy is my true line, That’s why I court Einstein. Buy him all that I can find For an old sinner of his kind. But what of all I most adore, And Hertha[3] may love even more, Is discussing a construction plan With an expert building man. New houses, remodeling old ones That’s what to me really beckons. Make a decision today, Tomorrow throw it away! To live like that is great What could be a better state? You, Philistine, get a clue And see like Toni, so I do!
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