The Three Dark Kings (Die Drei Dunklen Könige)
                                      by Wolfgang Borchert
                            Translated from the German into English by 
                                      Michael Heule 
                    Project of the GER 403 History of German Literature class 
                          Ball State University - Spring Semester 2003 
                                               

 
 
He groped through the dark suburb. The houses stood broken off 
gainst the sky. The moon was missing, and the pavement was 
shocked by the late steps. Then he found an old plank. He 
pushed his foot against it until a brittle piece sighed and 
broke loose. The wood smelled moldy and sweet. Through the 
dark suburb he groped back.  There were no stars to be seen.

When the door opened (it cried in doing so, the door), the 
pale-blue eyes of his wife looked toward him. They came 
from a tired face. Her breath hung white in the room; it 
was so cold. He bent his bony knee and broke the wood. The 
wood sighed. Then it smelled moldy and sweet all around. He 
held a piece of the wood under his nose. Smells almost like 
cake, he laughed quietly. Don't, said his wife's  eyes, 
don't laugh. He's sleeping.

The man placed the sweet, moldy wood into the small tin stove. 
It flared up and threw a handful of warm light throughout the 
room. It fell brightly on a tiny round face and remained for 
an instant. The face was just one hour old, but it already 
had everything that belonged to it: Ears, nose, mouth and 
eyes. The eyes had to be large, you  could tell that, even 
though they were closed. But the mouth was open, and a soft 
puffing came from it. Nose and ears were red. He's alive, 
thought the mother. And the small face slept.

There are still some oat flakes left, said the man. Yes, 
answered his wife that is good. It is cold. The man took 
another piece of the sweet soft wood. Now she has had her 
baby and has to be cold, he thought. But he didn't have 
anyone, whom he could strike in the face with his fists 
for it. As he opened the stove door, again a handful of 
light fell over the sleeping face. The woman said quietly: 
Look, like a halo, do you see it? Halo! he thought, and he 
didn't  not have anyone whom he could strike in the face 
with his fists. 

Then there were people at the door. We saw the light, they 
said, from the window. We want to sit down for ten minutes. 
But we have a child, said the man to them. They said nothing 
more, but nevertheless came into the room, blew steam from 
their noses and raised their feet high. Then the light fell 
on them. 

There were three of them. In three old uniforms. One had a 
cardboard box, one a bag. And the third didn't have any 
hands. Frozen, he said, and held the stumps high. Then he 
turned his coat pocket toward the man. Tobacco was in it 
and thin paper. They rolled cigarettes. But the woman said: 
Don't smoke, the child.

Then the four went to the door and their cigarettes were 
four points in the night. One had thick wrapped feet. He 
took a piece wood from a bag. A donkey, he said, I  carved 
on it for seven months. For the child. He said that and 
gave it to the man. What's wrong with your feet? the man 
asked. Water, said the donkey carver, from hunger. And the 
other one, the third one? the man asked as felt the donkey 
in the dark. The third one was trembling in his uniform: Oh, 
nothing, he whispered, it's only nerves. We've just exper- 
ienced too much fear. Then they stamped step out their 
cigarettes and went in again.

They raised their feet high and looked at the small sleeping 
face. The one who was trembling took two yellow bonbons from 
his cardboard box and said: They are for the woman. 

The woman opened her pale blue eyes widely, when she saw the 
three-dark ones bent over the child. She was afraid. But then 
the child pushed his legs against her chest and screamed so 
powerfully that the three-dark ones lifted their feet and 
shuffled to the door. Here they nodded again, and then they 
climbed into the night.

The man followed them with his eyes. Strange saints, he said 
to his wife. Then he closed the door. They are beautiful 
saints; he mumbled tended to the oat flakes. But he had no 
face for his fists. 

But the child screamed, whispered the woman, he  screamed 
uite loudly. Then they left. Look, how lively he is, she 
said proudly. The face opened its mouth and screamed. 

Is he crying? the man asked.

No, I think, he's laughing, the woman answered.

Almost like cake, the man said as he smelled the wood, like 
cake. Quite sweet.

It's also Christmas today, said the woman. 

Yes, Christmas, he mumbled, and from the stove a handful 
of light fell brightly onto the small sleeping face.