Reptefor1975 (@Reptefor1975)

This poem was written by Adolf Hitler in 1915, while he was fighting in World War I. I often go on bitter nights To Wodan’s oak in the quiet glade With dark powers to weave a union – The moonlight showing me the runic spell And all who are full of impudence during the day Are made small by the magic formula! They draw shining steel – but instead of going into combat, They solidify into stalagmites. Thus the wrong ones separate from the genuine ones – I reach into a nest of words Then give to the good and fair With my formula blessings and prosperity.