'The Cripple' by Karl Wittfogel
An interpretation of "Der Krüppel" by Karl August Wittfogel. Rendered here in English verse, Wittfogel's drama originally was performed in Berlin in 1919, as a piece of 'proletarian' street theater.
NARRATOR (any cast member):
See the fancy houses here, behind;
And passersby of every kind,
On the sidewalk, ’fore the door
Bustling to their shops and stores.
And all ignore
the kaiser’s war.
News has spread of those men gone,
To Soldiers; only some returning home;
“Victory’s at the corner,” so we’re told.
But knowing veterans
say nothing quite so bold.
Recalling those who’d
led them ‘from the back,’
While these men labored at the bloody front
of all attack.
Enter, THE CRIPPLE, on a crutch. The character limps on one leg
and is assisted by a young GIRL.
NARRATOR:
See our veteran, limping on a crutch;
With a girl, who daren’t speak too much;
She helps the old one to an uneven seat,
Upon the sidewalk, to watch
today’s parade of feet.
Bidding thanks to this accommodating daughter;
The cripple gently lowers his stump of leg,
taken by the slaughter.
Narrator withdraws. Girl helps Cripple to some rude seat.
CRIPPLE:
That’s it, my girl, please help to set me down;
Careful! Lift the leg easy
Here upon my throne.
GIRL:
In time, your pain should well depart;
As, resting here, you no longer stand.
CRIPPLE:
No! Pain always burns within my heart,
Like love of our dear Fatherland…!
I’m pure shot-through with angry love;
For both ragged life and saving angels’
fields of flowers.
Today, we cadge for coins; ’tis only fate.
So, go, my dear; return in seven hours;
And, please, do not be late…
Young Girl exits. …CITIZENS walk past.
CRIPPLE:
Damn. The sweepers haven’t done their work;
This spot of mine’s unwashed of city dirt;
And, yet, the path before us seems a-shining new;
Cleaned by the soles of these good folks’ shoes.
(A BOY enters.)
What flies past here, on two good feet?
One-two, one-two. Marching in the street?
Ho, there, boy; hold up, so that;
You might let a coin drop in my hat!
(Boy spits and moves on.)
Ah, there! He’s spat upon my shoe!
Or was it merely drool?
Na, God’s grace pours
from his young mouth
As from his heart and soul!
Oh, yes, sir! Today’s a good one for me, too!
See the women’s dresses polishing my shoe?
Thank you, ladies! My boot is now prepared,
To march in the king’s parade;
…That is… should his prison I be spared.
(Enter: Three officers in fancy uniforms, FIRST, SECOND, and THIRD.)
FIRST:
…Rita’s the one, I’m telling you!
She went to school, and learned a trick or two….
SECOND:
No, I wager Doris is the best-.
THIRD:
Mayabelle! She surpasses all the rest!
FIRST (to Cripple):
So! Whose regiment was yours, my friend?
CRIPPLE:
One-hundred-twenty-first, good Kapitain….
FIRST:
Ah! Solid roots, that regiment;
Men of the finest cut!
CRIPPLE:
I got them all, good cuts and roots!
And, of course, my stump to boot! (Laughs.)
THIRD:
Hm. Did you lose it in a blast?
CRIPPLE:
Ah, such a blast, that war!
For me, the end came much too fast.
SECOND:
As for that, you’re lucky you aren’t dead!
(Pulling the others away:)
Come. The man’s not right within his head.
FIRST:
….and, speaking of Doris, Rita as well…
SECOND:
… not to forget dear Mayabelle!
(They exit.)
CRIPPLE:
Farewell, good sirs! I consign you to your hell.
Easy for the Gentlemen to be kind
To me. And yet, to larger things
Remain so dumb and blind…
(A priest approaches.)
PASTOR:
Poor man, dear urchin of the street,
I stoop to comfort thee:
My son: Life in Christ is sweet!
CRIPPLE:
Clearly sweet enough for some, dear Father;
For others, not so much a treat.
PASTOR:
Earthly pain is temporal, my son,
This too shall pass!
CRIPPLE:
But, Father, are you sure?
That life is not just this blister on my ass?
PASTOR:
All pain is overcome by God’s blessings.
Only this!
CRIPPLE:
And what gives my back relief today? Perhaps a holy kiss?
(He pretends to rise and present his backside.)
PASTOR:
Sitting on cold concrete! A wheelchair’d be the thing for you.
CRIPPLE:
Would not the kiss be easier? (And cheaper too!)
PASTOR:
A wheelchair could help you pass,
Newspapers! Get yourself to work. Sell news!
CRIPPLE:
A wheelchair might also roll my ass
Direct into your pews….
PASTOR:
A more productive life is one you might well lead!
Modern motivation is all you really need!
A wheelchair, yes, or prosthetic foot of wood…
CRIPPLE:
Father, I know you wish to do me good;
But I’ll let your offer sail;
My one foot’s still capable of kicking
The most sanctimonious of tail.
(The priest sniffs, turns up his nose and leaves.)
CRIPPLE:
Such as he will never die, like the stars above,
Watching over everything, demanding our eternal love.
Parading goody two-shoes, their doctrines;
Their spotless uniforms.
Will we meet once more in Heaven
Giving formal thanks?
Or elsewhere charging one another yet again,
Forming ranks across the firestorm…?