![\"Collage](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage1a.webp\")
Collage mit Feuerwerk, Flaggen und Text \u00fcber Gedichte zum 4. Juli<\/em><\/p>\nDer Weg zum Unabh\u00e4ngigkeitstag war kein einfacher. Er umfasste tiefgreifende Ideen, bedeutende Risiken und diverse Stimmen, die sich f\u00fcr eine neue Realit\u00e4t einsetzten. Die Erkl\u00e4rung selbst, ein Dokument mit mitrei\u00dfender Rhetorik, legte radikale Behauptungen \u00fcber Menschenrechte und Selbstverwaltung dar, die weit \u00fcber die urspr\u00fcnglichen dreizehn Kolonien hinaus nachwirken sollten. Dichter f\u00fchlten sich seit langem von dieser Erz\u00e4hlung angezogen und fingen den revolution\u00e4ren Eifer und die Ideale ein, die eine Nation entfachten.<\/p>\n
Beginnen wir mit Gedichten, die sich direkt auf den historischen Moment und die Gr\u00fcndungsprinzipien beziehen.<\/p>\n
Echos der Revolution und fr\u00fche Ideale<\/h2>\n
Concord Hymn<\/strong> Von Ralph Waldo Emerson via poets.org<\/a><\/p>\n By the rude bridge that arched the flood, The foe long since in silence slept; On this green bank, by this soft stream, Spirit, that made those heroes dare Emersons Gedicht, geschrieben zur Einweihung eines Denkmals am Schauplatz der Schlacht von Concord, f\u00e4ngt den legend\u00e4ren Beginn des bewaffneten Konflikts ein und konzentriert sich auf die Tapferkeit der B\u00fcrgersoldaten. Es verbindet das vergangene Opfer mit der gegenw\u00e4rtigen Erinnerung und dem bleibenden Geist der Freiheit.<\/p>\n The Star-Spangled Banner<\/strong> By Francis Scott Key via poets.org<\/a><\/p>\n O say, can you see, by the dawn\u2019s early light, On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, And where is that band who so vauntingly swore O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Dieses Gedicht, das zur US-Nationalhymne wurde, erz\u00e4hlt von der Widerstandsf\u00e4higkeit der amerikanischen Streitkr\u00e4fte w\u00e4hrend des Krieges von 1812 und konzentriert sich auf das Symbol der Flagge, die den Konflikt \u00fcbersteht. Es verkn\u00fcpft die Flagge direkt mit der Idee des \u201eLandes der Freien und der Heimat der Tapferen\u201c, eine starke Assoziation f\u00fcr den 4. Juli.<\/p>\n Paul Revere\u2019s Ride<\/strong> By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow \u2013 ein Auszug (lesen Sie das ganze Gedicht unter poets.org<\/a>)<\/p>\n Listen, my children, and you shall hear He said to his friend, \u201cIf the British march Then he said \u201cGood night!\u201d and with muffled oar Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street Then he climbed to the tower of the church, Longfellows Erz\u00e4hlgedicht, wenn auch romantisiert, erfasste die popul\u00e4re Vorstellung von einem der Schl\u00fcsselereignisse, die zur Revolution f\u00fchrten, und betonte das individuelle Handeln im Dienste der kollektiven Freiheit. Diese Art des Geschichtenerz\u00e4hlens in Versen ist ein wichtiger Aspekt der [Texte von Dichtern].<\/p>\n The New Colossus<\/strong> By Emma Lazarus via the poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, Auf dem Sockel der Freiheitsstatue eingraviert, definierte Lazarus‘ Sonett das Symbol Amerikas nicht als erobernde Macht, sondern als einladendes Leuchtfeuer f\u00fcr Einwanderer, die Freiheit und Gelegenheit suchen. Dieses Gedicht ist essenziell f\u00fcr das Verst\u00e4ndnis eines Schl\u00fcsselaspekts der amerikanischen Identit\u00e4t, der oft am 4. Juli gefeiert wird.<\/p>\n I Hear America Singing<\/strong> By Walt Whitman via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, Whitmans ber\u00fchmte Zeilen zeichnen das Bild einer lebendigen, arbeitenden Nation, in der Freiheit durch die individuellen Beitr\u00e4ge und Stimmen ihrer vielf\u00e4ltigen Menschen zum Ausdruck kommt. Es ist eine Feier der kollektiven Energie, die Amerika aufbaut.<\/p>\n W\u00e4hrend der 4. Juli Ideale feiert, haben viele Dichter den Anlass oder seine Themen genutzt, um \u00fcber die Fehler der Nation und die Kluft zwischen ihren Versprechen und der Realit\u00e4t nachzudenken, insbesondere in Bezug auf Sklaverei und rassistische Ungerechtigkeit.<\/p>\n America<\/strong> By Claude McKay via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, McKay, der w\u00e4hrend der Harlem Renaissance schrieb, dr\u00fcckt eine komplexe Beziehung zu Amerika aus \u2013 er erkennt seine bedr\u00fcckenden Aspekte an („Brot der Bitterkeit“, „Tigerzahn“), versp\u00fcrt aber auch ein Gef\u00fchl der Zugeh\u00f6rigkeit und St\u00e4rke, das aus dem Kampf gegen diese Unterdr\u00fcckung gezogen wird.<\/p>\n Let America Be America Again<\/strong> \u2013 ein Auszug By Langston Hughes Lesen Sie das ganze Gedicht unter poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Let America be America again. (America never was America to me.)<\/p>\n Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed\u2014 (It never was America to me.)<\/p>\n O, let my land be a land where Liberty (There\u2019s never been equality for me, Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, Hughes‘ kraftvolles Gedicht konfrontiert direkt die Heuchelei der amerikanischen Ideale, wenn man sie durch die Augen der Marginalisierten und Unterdr\u00fcckten betrachtet. Es ist ein Aufruf an Amerika, die Nation zu werden<\/em>, die es zu sein behauptet, und hebt den fortw\u00e4hrenden Kampf f\u00fcr wahre Freiheit und Gleichheit f\u00fcr alle seine Bewohner hervor. Das Verst\u00e4ndnis der Nuancen solch kraftvoller Ausdrucksformen kann die Wertsch\u00e4tzung f\u00fcr verschiedene [Gedichtformen] und ihre Wirkung vertiefen.<\/p>\n Banneker<\/strong> By Rita Dove via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n What did he do except lie under a pear tree, But who would want him! Neither Ethiopian nor English, his very size and likeness. A wife? No, thank you. his rifle\u2014a white-maned figure stalking the darkened breast Rita Doves Gedicht \u00fcber Benjamin Banneker, einen afroamerikanischen Almanachautor, Landvermesser und Naturforscher, ber\u00fchrt implizit die Themen Intellekt und Beitrag innerhalb einer Gesellschaft, die mit Sklaverei und rassistischen Vorurteilen k\u00e4mpft, und f\u00fcgt der komplexen Geschichte, die am 4. Juli gefeiert wird, eine weitere Ebene hinzu.<\/p>\n Immigrants in Our Own Land<\/strong> By Jimmy Santiago Baca via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n We are born with dreams in our hearts, looking for better days ahead. The old men who have lived here stare at us, from deep disturbed eyes, We came here to get away from false promises, from dictators in our neighborhoods, My cell is crisscrossed with laundry lines, my T-shirts, boxer shorts, I ask Coyote next door to shoot me over a little more soap But in the end, some will just sit around talking about how good the old world was. Bacas Gedicht, das in einem Gef\u00e4ngnis spielt, verwendet die Metapher von Einwanderern, die in einem neuen, unterdr\u00fcckenden Land ankommen, um den Mangel an Freiheit und Gelegenheit zu kommentieren, den diejenigen innerhalb des Justizsystems erfahren, oft \u00fcberproportional Menschen anderer Hautfarbe. Es ist eine deutliche Erinnerung daran, dass der Kampf f\u00fcr Freiheit andauert.<\/p>\n America<\/strong> By Allen Ginsberg \u2013 Ein Auszug (Lesen Sie das ganze Gedicht unter poetryfoundation<\/a>)<\/p>\n America I\u2019ve given you all and now I\u2019m nothing. Ginsbergs Bewusstseinsstrom-Gedicht bietet eine Beat-Generation-Kritik an der amerikanischen Nachkriegsgesellschaft, ihrem Konsumismus, ihrer Politik und ihren wahrgenommenen Fehlern, was eine tiefe Ern\u00fcchterung widerspiegelt, die ebenfalls Teil der amerikanischen poetischen Tradition ist.<\/p>\n Jenseits der historischen Reflexion und Kritik fangen viele Gedichte einfach das Gef\u00fchl und die sinnliche Erfahrung der Feierlichkeiten zum 4. Juli selbst ein.<\/p>\n Good Night Poem<\/strong> by Carl Sandburg via poemhunter<\/a><\/p>\n Many ways to say good night.<\/p>\n Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes. Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.<\/p>\n Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying a baritone that crosses lowland It is easy to spell good night. Many ways to spell good night.<\/p>\n Sandburgs einfache Zeilen verwenden die Bilder des Feuerwerks am Fourth of July als eine der vielen Arten, wie die Welt am Ende des Tages den Abschluss signalisiert, und verankern das Spektakul\u00e4re in den gew\u00f6hnlichen Rhythmen des Lebens.<\/p>\n July 4th<\/strong> by May Swenson via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Gradual bud and bloom and seedfall speeded up Swenson beschreibt lebendig das visuelle und auditive Erlebnis des Feuerwerks, vergleicht es mit beschleunigten nat\u00fcrlichen Prozessen und himmlischen Ereignissen und f\u00e4ngt so das Staunen und die Aufregung der Feier ein.<\/p>\n Fourth of July<\/strong> By John Brehm via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Freedom is a rocket, isn\u2019t it, bursting orgasmically over parkloads Brehm bietet eine scharf kontrastierende Sichtweise, indem er das festliche Feuerwerk mit der Gewalt des Krieges und den schmerzhaften Kosten von Konflikten verbindet und andeutet, dass das Wesen Amerikas in dieser komplexen, oft zerst\u00f6rerischen Geschichte gebunden ist.<\/p>\n The Fourth of July Parade<\/strong> By Fran Haraway via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n Stripes and stars, Haraways Gedicht ist eine einfache, listenartige Erfassung der sensorischen Details und vertrauten Elemente einer Parade zum Fourth of July in einer Kleinstadt, die die weit verbreitete, gemeindebezogene Art der Feierlichkeiten widerspiegelt.<\/p>\n Jenseits des spezifischen Datums erkunden viele Dichter die breiteren Themen der amerikanischen Identit\u00e4t, Freiheit und des fortlaufenden Prozesses der Nationsdefinition und bieten Perspektiven, die am 4. Juli stark nachhallen.<\/p>\n America The Beautiful \u2013 A Poem for July 4.<\/strong> By Katharine Lee Bates via Wikipedia<\/a><\/p>\n O beautiful for spacious skies, O beautiful for pilgrim feet, O beautiful for heroes proved O beautiful for patriot dream Bates‘ weithin beliebtes hymnenartiges Gedicht feiert die nat\u00fcrliche Sch\u00f6nheit und die erstrebenswerten Ideale Amerikas und betet f\u00fcr Einheit, Selbstverbesserung und die Verwirklichung seines h\u00f6chsten Potenzials. Es ist eine Vision dessen, was Amerika sein k\u00f6nnte<\/em>, die nat\u00fcrliche Pracht mit moralischen und spirituellen Bestrebungen verbindet.<\/p>\n America, A Prophecy<\/strong> By William Blake \u2013 Ein Auszug. (Lesen Sie das ganze Gedicht unter Bartleby.com<\/a>) Preludium<\/strong> \u2013 ein Auszug A Prophecy<\/strong> \u2013 ein Auszug Washington spoke: \u2018Friends of America! look over the Atlantic sea; The strong voice ceas\u2019d; for a terrible blast swept over the heaving sea: William Blakes einzigartiges und komplexes prophetisches Gedicht bietet eine mythologische Interpretation der amerikanischen Revolution, die sie durch die Brille eines spirituellen und politischen Kampfes gegen unterdr\u00fcckende Kr\u00e4fte betrachtet \u2013 eine sehr andere Perspektive als traditionelle historische Darstellungen. Dieses Werk veranschaulicht die Vielfalt der Gedichtformen und Ans\u00e4tze, die zur Behandlung des Themas nationaler Identit\u00e4t verwendet werden.<\/p>\n Zitate \u00fcber Unabh\u00e4ngigkeit und Tr\u00e4ume klingen am Vierten Juli oft tief nach und dienen als Anhaltspunkte f\u00fcr die Bestrebungen, auf denen die Nation gegr\u00fcndet wurde. Wie Barack Obama bemerkte: \u201eWir, das Volk, erkennen an, dass wir Pflichten ebenso wie Rechte haben; dass unsere Schicksale miteinander verbunden sind; dass eine Freiheit, die nur fragt, was f\u00fcr mich dabei herausspringt \u2013 eine Freiheit ohne Engagement f\u00fcr andere, eine Freiheit ohne Liebe oder N\u00e4chstenliebe oder Pflicht oder Patriotismus \u2013 unserer Gr\u00fcndungsprinzipien unw\u00fcrdig ist, ebenso wie derer, die bei ihrer Verteidigung starben.\u201c Dies unterstreicht die Idee, dass Freiheit mit Verantwortung einhergeht, ein Thema, das in vielen Reflexionen \u00fcber den Feiertag widerhallt.<\/p>\n Rosa Parks‘ Aussage: \u201eIch m\u00f6chte als jemand in Erinnerung bleiben, der frei sein wollte und auch andere frei sehen wollte\u201c, erinnert uns daran, dass der Kampf f\u00fcr Freiheit \u00fcber die nationale Unabh\u00e4ngigkeit hinaus auf individuelle B\u00fcrgerrechte und die Befreiung aller Menschen ausgeweitet werden muss. John Thunes Zitat: \u201eIch glaube, unsere Flagge ist mehr als nur Stoff und Tinte. Sie ist ein universell anerkanntes Symbol, das f\u00fcr Freiheit und Unabh\u00e4ngigkeit steht. Sie ist die Geschichte unserer Nation und ist gezeichnet vom Blut derer, die bei ihrer Verteidigung starben\u201c, verbindet das nationale Symbol direkt mit den abstrakten Konzepten der Freiheit und den greifbaren Opfern, die zu ihrer Sicherung gebracht wurden.<\/p>\n Frederick Douglass‘ kraftvolle Worte: \u201eDiejenigen, die bekennen, die Freiheit zu bevorzugen und dennoch die Agitation herabsetzen, sind Menschen, die Ernten ohne das Pfl\u00fcgen des Bodens wollen; sie wollen Regen ohne Donner und Blitz; sie wollen den Ozean ohne das Br\u00fcllen seiner vielen Wasser. Der Kampf mag ein moralischer sein, oder er mag ein physischer sein, oder er mag beides sein. Aber es muss ein Kampf sein. Macht gibt nichts zu, ohne eine Forderung. Das hat sie nie getan und wird sie nie tun\u201c, fordern die passive Akzeptanz von Freiheit heraus und unterstreichen die Notwendigkeit eines fortw\u00e4hrenden Kampfes und der F\u00fcrsprache f\u00fcr ihre Verwirklichung f\u00fcr alle. Diese Empfindungen bieten einen wichtigen Kontext f\u00fcr die Gedichte, die Amerikas M\u00e4ngel kritisieren.<\/p>\n To The Fourth of July<\/strong> \u2013 Von Swami Vivekananda via poemhunter<\/a><\/p>\n Behold, the dark clouds melt away, The flowers raise their star-like crowns\u2014 All hail to thee, thou Lord of Light! Some gave up home and love of friends, Then thou, propitious, rose to shed Swami Vivekanandas Gedicht bietet eine einzigartige, philosophische Perspektive, die die Freiheit des Vierten Julis mit dem Anbruch des Lichts und der universellen menschlichen Suche nach Befreiung gleichsetzt und die Bedeutung des Feiertags \u00fcber nationale Grenzen hinaus erweitert. Diese Erkundung tiefgr\u00fcndiger Themen zeigt, wie Poesie wirklich [Poesie aufsaugen] kann aus vielf\u00e4ltigen Inspirationsquellen.<\/p>\n Learning to love America<\/strong> By Shirley Geok-Lin Lim via poetryfoundation<\/a><\/p>\n because it has no pure products<\/p>\n because the Pacific Ocean sweeps along the coastline because I say we rather than they<\/p>\n because I live in California because my senses have caught up with my body because I walk barefoot in my house<\/p>\n because I have nursed my son at my breast because to have a son is to have a country because it is late and too late to change my mind Lims Gedicht erforscht den pers\u00f6nlichen und komplexen Prozess einer Einwanderin, die Zugeh\u00f6rigkeit und Liebe zu Amerika findet, nicht basierend auf abstrakten Idealen oder historischen Erz\u00e4hlungen, sondern durch sinnliche Erfahrungen, famili\u00e4re Bindungen und die gelebte Realit\u00e4t, eine Heimat zu finden.<\/p>\n
\nTheir flag to April\u2019s breeze unfurled,
\nHere once the embattled farmers stood,
\nAnd fired the shot heard round the world.<\/p>\n
\nAlike the conqueror silent sleeps;
\nAnd Time the ruined bridge has swept
\nDown the dark stream which seaward creeps.<\/p>\n
\nWe set to-day a votive stone;
\nThat memory may their deed redeem,
\nWhen, like our sires, our sons are gone.<\/p>\n
\nTo die, and leave their children free,
\nBid Time and Nature gently spare
\nThe shaft we raise to them and thee.<\/p>\n
\nWhat so proudly we hailed at the twilight\u2019s last gleaming?
\nWhose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
\nO\u2019er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming;
\nAnd the rocket\u2019s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
\nGave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
\nO say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
\nO\u2019er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?<\/p>\n
\nWhere the foe\u2019s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
\nWhat is that which the breeze, o\u2019er the towering steep,
\nAs it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
\nNow it catches the gleam of the morning\u2019s first beam,
\nIn full glory reflected now shines on the stream;
\n\u2018Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave
\nO\u2019er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!<\/p>\n
\nThat the havoc of war and the battle\u2019s confusion
\nA home and a country should leave us no more?
\nTheir blood has washed out their foul footsteps\u2019 pollution.
\nNo refuge could save the hireling and slave,
\nFrom the terror of flight and the gloom of the grave;
\nAnd the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
\nO\u2019er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!<\/p>\n
\nBetween their loved homes and the war\u2019s desolation!
\nBlest with victory and peace, may the heav\u2019n-rescued land,
\nPraise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
\nThen conquer we must, for our cause it is just.
\nAnd this be our motto\u2014 \u201cIn God is our trust; \u201d
\nAnd the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
\nO\u2019er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.<\/p>\n
\nOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
\nOn the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
\nHardly a man is now alive
\nWho remembers that famous day and year.<\/p>\n
\nBy land or sea from the town to-night,
\nHang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
\nOf the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,\u2014
\nOne if by land, and two if by sea;
\nAnd I on the opposite shore will be,
\nReady to ride and spread the alarm
\nThrough every Middlesex village and farm,
\nFor the country-folk to be up and to arm.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nSilently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
\nJust as the moon rose over the bay,
\nWhere swinging wide at her moorings lay
\nThe Somerset, British man-of-war:
\nA phantom ship, with each mast and spar
\nAcross the moon, like a prison-bar,
\nAnd a huge black hulk, that was magnified
\nBy its own reflection in the tide.<\/p>\n
\nWanders and watches with eager ears,
\nTill in the silence around him he hears
\nThe muster of men at the barrack door,
\nThe sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
\nAnd the measured tread of the grenadiers
\nMarching down to their boats on the shore.<\/p>\n
\nUp the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
\nTo the belfry-chamber overhead,
\nAnd startled the pigeons from their perch
\nOn the sombre rafters, that round him made
\nMasses and moving shapes of shade,\u2014
\nBy the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
\nTo the highest window in the wall,
\nWhere he paused to listen and look down
\nA moment on the roofs of the town,
\nAnd the moonlight flowing overall.<\/p>\nIdeale Amerikas: Einladend und vielf\u00e4ltig<\/h2>\n
\nWith conquering limbs astride from land to land;
\nHere at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
\nA mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
\nIs the imprisoned lightning, and her name
\nMother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
\nGlows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
\nThe air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
\n\u201cKeep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!\u201d cries she
\nWith silent lips. \u201cGive me your tired, your poor,
\nYour huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
\nThe wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
\nSend these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
\nI lift my lamp beside the golden door!\u201d<\/p>\n![\"Weitere](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage3.webp\")
Weitere Bilder zum 4. Juli mit patriotischen Symbolen und Text<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThose of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
\nThe carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
\nThe mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
\nThe boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
\nThe shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
\nThe wood-cutter\u2019s song, the ploughboy\u2019s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
\nThe delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
\nEach singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
\nThe day what belongs to the day\u2014at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
\nSinging with open mouths their strong melodious songs.<\/p>\nKritik und Komplexit\u00e4t der Freiheit<\/h2>\n
\nAnd sinks into my throat her tiger\u2019s tooth,
\nStealing my breath of life, I will confess
\nI love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
\nHer vigor flows like tides into my blood,
\nGiving me strength erect against her hate,
\nHer bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
\nYet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
\nI stand within her walls with not a shred
\nOf terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
\nDarkly I gaze into the days ahead,
\nAnd see her might and granite wonders there,
\nBeneath the touch of Time\u2019s unerring hand,
\nLike priceless treasures sinking in the sand.<\/p>\n
\nLet it be the dream it used to be.
\nLet it be the pioneer on the plain
\nSeeking a home where he himself is free.<\/p>\n
\nLet it be that great strong land of love
\nWhere never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
\nThat any man be crushed by one above.<\/p>\n
\nIs crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
\nBut opportunity is real, and life is free,
\nEquality is in the air we breathe.<\/p>\n
\nNor freedom in this \u201chomeland of the free.\u201d)<\/p>\n
\nAnd who are you that draws your veil across the stars?<\/p>\n
\nI am the Negro bearing slavery\u2019s scars.
\nI am the red man driven from the land,
\nI am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek\u2014
\nAnd finding only the same old stupid plan
\nOf dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.<\/p>\n
\nwrapped in a great cloak, and meditate on the heavenly bodies?
\nVenerable, the good people of Baltimore whispered, shocked
\nand more than a little afraid. After all it was said
\nhe took to strong drink. Why else would he stay out under the stars
\nall night and why hadn\u2019t he married?<\/p>\n
\nneither lucky nor crazy, a capacious bird humming as he penned
\nin his mind another enflamed letter to President Jefferson\u2014
\nhe imagined the reply, polite and rhetorical.
\nThose who had been to Philadelphia reported the statue
\nof Benjamin Franklin before the library<\/p>\n
\nAt dawn, he milked the cows, then went inside and put on a pot
\nto stew while he slept. The clock he whittled
\nas a boy still ran. Neighbors woke him up
\nwith warm bread and quilts. At nightfall, he took out<\/p>\n
\nof the Union\u2014and shot at the stars, and by chance
\none went out. Had he killed? I assure thee, my dear Sir!
\nLowering his eyes to fields sweet with the rot of spring,
\nhe could see a government\u2019s domed city rising from the morass
\nand spreading in a spiral of lights\u2026<\/p>\n![\"Patriotische](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage4.webp\")
Patriotische Collage mit Texten \u00fcber Freiheit und den Unabh\u00e4ngigkeitstag<\/em><\/p>\n
\nAt the gates we are given new papers, our old clothes are taken
\nand we are given overalls like mechanics wear.
\nWe are given shots and doctors ask questions.
\nThen we gather in another room where counselors orient us
\nto the new land we will now live in. We take tests.
\nSome of us were craftsmen in the old world, good with our hands
\nand proud of our work. Others were good with their heads.
\nThey used common sense like scholars use glasses and books
\nto reach the world. But most of us didn\u2019t finish high school.<\/p>\n
\nsulking, retreated. We pass them as they stand around idle,
\nleaning on shovels and rakes or against walls.
\nOur expectations are high: in the old world, they talked about
\nrehabilitation, about being able to finish school,
\nand learning an extra good trade. But right away we are sent to work
\nas dishwashers, to work in fields for three cents an hour.
\nThe administration says this is temporary
\nSo we go about our business, blacks with blacks, poor whites with poor whites,
\nchicanos and indians by themselves. The administration says this is right,
\nno mixing of cultures, let them stay apart, like in the old neighborhoods
\nwe came from.<\/p>\n
\nwho wore blue suits and broke our doors down when they wanted,
\narrested us when they felt like, swinging clubs and shooting guns
\nas they pleased. But it\u2019s no different here. It\u2019s all concentrated.
\nThe doctors don\u2019t care, our bodies decay, our minds deteriorate,
\nwe learn nothing of value. Our lives don\u2019t get better, we go down quick.<\/p>\n
\nsocks and pants are drying. Just like it used to be in my neighborhood:
\nfrom all the tenements laundry hung window to window.
\nAcross the way Joey is sticking his hands through the bars
\nto hand Felip\u00e9 a cigarette, men are hollering back and forth cell to cell,
\nsaying their sinks don\u2019t work, or somebody downstairs hollers angrily
\nabout a toilet overflowing, or that the heaters don\u2019t work.<\/p>\n
\nto finish my laundry. I look down and see new immigrants coming in,
\nmattresses rolled up and on their shoulders, new haircuts and brogan boots,
\nlooking around, each with a dream in their heart, thinking they\u2019ll get a chance
\nto change their lives.<\/p>\n
\nSome of the younger ones will become gangsters. Some will die
\nand others will go on living without a soul, a future, or a reason to live.
\nSome will make it out of here with hate in their eyes, but so very few make it out of here
\nas human as they came in, they leave wondering what good they are now
\nas they look at their hands so long away from their tools, as they look at themselves,
\nso long gone from their families, so long gone from life itself,
\nso many things have changed.<\/p>\n
\nAmerica two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.
\nI can\u2019t stand my own mind.
\nAmerica when will we end the human war?
\nGo fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
\nI don\u2019t feel good don\u2019t bother me.
\nI won\u2019t write my poem till I\u2019m in my right mind.
\nAmerica when will you be angelic?
\nWhen will you take off your clothes?
\nWhen will you look at yourself through the grave?
\nWhen will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
\nAmerica why are your libraries full of tears?
\nAmerica when will you send your eggs to India?
\nI\u2019m sick of your insane demands.
\nWhen can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
\nAmerica after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
\nYour machinery is too much for me.
\nYou made me want to be a saint.
\nThere must be some other way to settle this argument.
\nBurroughs is in Tangiers I don\u2019t think he\u2019ll come back it\u2019s sinister.
\nAre you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
\nI\u2019m trying to come to the point.
\nI refuse to give up my obsession.
\nAmerica stop pushing I know what I\u2019m doing.
\nAmerica the plum blossoms are falling.
\nI haven\u2019t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
\nAmerica I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
\nAmerica I used to be a communist when I was a kid I\u2019m not sorry.
\nI smoke marijuana every chance I get.
\nI sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
\nWhen I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
\nMy mind is made up there\u2019s going to be trouble.
\nYou should have seen me reading Marx.
\nMy psychoanalyst thinks I\u2019m perfectly right.
\nI won\u2019t say the Lord\u2019s Prayer.
\nI have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
\nAmerica I still haven\u2019t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
\nI\u2019m addressing you.
\nAre you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
\nI\u2019m obsessed by Time Magazine.
\nI read it every week. Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
\nI read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
\nIt\u2019s always telling me about responsibility.
\nBusinessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody\u2019s serious but me.
\nIt occurs to me that I am America.
\nI am talking to myself again.<\/p>\nDie Feier des heutigen Tages<\/h2>\n
\nThey fizz in the air, touch the water, and quit. Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue
\nand then go out.<\/p>\n
\ncottonfields to razorback hill.<\/p>\n
\nare these mute explosions in slow motion. From vertical shoots above the sea,
\nthe fire flowers open, shedding their petals.
\nBlack waves, turned more than moonwhite, pink ice, lightning blue,
\necho our gasps of admiration as they crash and hush.
\nAnother bush ablaze snicks straight up.
\nA gap like heartstop between the last vanished particle
\nand the thuggish boom. And the thuggish boom repeats
\nin stutters from sandhill hollows in the shore. We want more.
\nA twirling sun, or dismembered chrysanthemum
\nbulleted up, leisurely bursts, in an instant timestreak
\nis suckswooped back to its core. And we want more:
\nred giant, white dwarf, black hole dense, invisible, all in one.<\/p>\n
\nof hot dog devouring human beings or into the cities of our enemies
\nwithout whom we would surely kill ourselves though they are ourselves
\nand America I see now is the soldier who said I saw something burning
\non my chest and tried to brush it off with my right hand but my arm
\nwasn\u2019t there\u2014 America is no other than this moment, the burning
\nribcage, the hand gone that might have put it out, the skies
\nafire with our history.<\/p>\n
\nAntique cars,
\nPretty girls,
\nBaton twirls,
\nSpangled gowns,
\nFriendly clowns,
\nSmiling folks,
\nPapered spokes,
\nMarching feet,
\nEndless heat,
\nClapping hands,
\nHigh school bands,
\nTown traditions,
\nPoliticians,
\nPerspiration,
\nCelebration!<\/p>\n![\"Visuelle](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage1aa.webp\")
Visuelle Elemente zur Feier des Feiertags am 4. Juli<\/em><\/p>\n\u00dcberlegungen zur amerikanischen Identit\u00e4t und der Bedeutung von Freiheit<\/h2>\n
\nFor amber waves of grain,
\nFor purple mountain majesties
\nAbove the fruited plain!
\nAmerica! America!
\nGod shed His grace on thee
\nAnd crown thy good with brotherhood
\nFrom sea to shining sea!<\/p>\n
\nWhose stern, impassioned stress
\nA thoroughfare for freedom beat
\nAcross the wilderness!
\nAmerica! America!
\nGod mend thine every flaw,
\nConfirm thy soul in self-control,
\nThy liberty in law!<\/p>\n
\nIn liberating strife,
\nWho more than self their country loved
\nAnd mercy more than life!
\nAmerica! America!
\nMay God thy gold refine,
\nTill all success be nobleness,
\nAnd every gain divine!<\/p>\n
\nThat sees beyond the years
\nThine alabaster cities gleam
\nUndimmed by human tears!
\nAmerica! America!
\nGod shed His grace on thee
\nAnd crown thy good with brotherhood
\nFrom sea to shining sea!<\/p>\n
\nThe shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
\nWhen fourteen suns had faintly journey\u2019d o\u2019er his dark abode:
\nHis food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron.
\nCrown\u2019d with a helmet and dark hair the nameless Female stood;
\nA quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
\nWhen pestilence is shot from heaven\u2014no other arms she need!
\nInvulnerable tho\u2019 naked, save where clouds roll round her loins
\nTheir awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;
\nFor never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,
\nBut dumb till that dread day when Orc assay\u2019d his fierce embrace.<\/p>\n
\nTHE GUARDIAN PRINCE of Albion burns in his nightly tent:
\nSullen fires across the Atlantic glow to America\u2019s shore,
\nPiercing the souls of warlike men who rise in silent night.
\nWashington, Franklin, Paine, and Warren, Gates, Hancock, and Green
\nMeet on the coast glowing with blood from Albion\u2019s fiery Prince.
\n5<\/p>\n
\nA bended bow is lifted in Heaven, and a heavy iron chain
\nDescends, link by link, from Albion\u2019s cliffs across the sea, to bind
\nBrothers and sons of America; till our faces pale and yellow,
\nHeads depress\u2019d, voices weak, eyes downcast, hands work-bruis\u2019d,
\n10
\nFeet bleeding on the sultry sands, and the furrows of the whip
\nDescend to generations, that in future times forget.\u2019<\/p>\n
\nThe eastern cloud rent: on his cliffs stood Albion\u2019s wrathful Prince,
\nA dragon form, clashing his scales: at midnight he arose,
\n15
\nAnd flam\u2019d red meteors round the land of Albion beneath;
\nHis voice, his locks, his awful shoulders, and his glowing eyes
\nAppear to the Americans upon the cloudy night.<\/p>\n![\"Bild](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/independence-day-and-dream-quotes.webp\")
Bild mit Zitaten \u00fcber Unabh\u00e4ngigkeitstag und Tr\u00e4ume<\/em><\/p>\n![\"Pinterest-Grafik](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage-pinterest.webp\")
Pinterest-Grafik zur Bewerbung einer Gedichtsammlung zum 4. Juli<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThat gathered thick at night, and hung
\nSo like a gloomy pall above the earth!
\nBefore thy magic touch, the world
\nAwakes. The birds in chorus sing.<\/p>\n
\nDew-set, and wave thee welcome fair.
\nThe lakes are opening wide in love
\nTheir hundred thousand lotus-eyes
\nTo welcome thee, with all their depth.<\/p>\n
\nA welcome new to thee, today,
\nO Sun! Today thou sheddest Liberty!
\nBethink thee how the world did wait,
\nAnd search for thee, through time and clime.<\/p>\n
\nAnd went in quest of thee, self-banished,
\nThrough dreary oceans, through primeval forests,
\nEach step a struggle for their life or death;
\nThen came the day when work bore fruit,
\nAnd worship, love, and sacrifice,
\nFulfilled, accepted, and complete.<\/p>\n
\nThe light of Freedom on mankind.
\nMove on, O Lord, in thy resistless path!
\nTill thy high noon o\u2019erspreads the world.
\nTill every land reflects thy light,
\nTill men and women, with uplifted head,
\nBehold their shackles broken, and
\nKnow, in springing joy, their life renewed!<\/p>\n
\nbecause the water of the ocean is cold and
\nbecause land is better than ocean<\/p>\n
\nI have eaten fresh artichokes and jacaranda bloom
\nin April and May<\/p>\n
\nmy breath with the air it swallows
\nmy hunger with my mouth<\/p>\n
\nbecause he is a strong American boy
\nbecause I have seen his eyes redden when he is asked
\nwho he is because he answers
\nI don\u2019t know<\/p>\n
\nbecause my son will bury me here
\nbecause countries are in our blood and we bleed them<\/p>\n
\nbecause it is time.<\/p>\n
![\"Abschlie\u00dfende](\"https:\/\/latrespace.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/july-4-independence-day-collage5.webp\")
Abschlie\u00dfende Collage mit Themen der 4. Juli Feierlichkeiten<\/em><\/p>\n