By Wolfgang Borchert · View Translated Work ↑. Das hohle Fenster in der Da lag ein halbes Brot. Und eine Blechschachtel. Du rauchst? fragte der Mann. Europe Germany Hamburg. Wolfgang Borchert () is a German short-story writer and playwright. He is considered to be the. Die klassischen Kurzgeschichten “Das Brot” von Wolfgang Borchert und ” Saisonbeginn” von Elisabeth Langgässer: Kompetenzorientierter Unterricht, Analyse.
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The story describes an everyday situation in post-war Germany. It was probably the rain gutter.
The kitchen clock | The Rhino Column
While they are trying to sleep, she hears her husband chewing the slice of bread secretly. Go ahead and eat one more.
He just kept thinking of the word — the word paradise. Auf die doch nicht!
moderne Kurzgeschichte by Bastian Beck on Prezi
And the knife lay there. And then she made me a bit of warm supper and watched as I ate. The knife was still lying beside the plate. Nachts schlafen die Ratten doch.
White ones, grey ones, white and grey ones. Nein, ich schlafe nich.
They go back to bed. And as I looked for something to eat in the dark kitchen, suddenly the light would flick on. Broh a long moment it was entirely silent on the bench.
Every night that happened. And then I heard wolfgag putting the plates away again, when I had already gone to my room and turned out the light. Pfeife mag ich nicht. Green rabbit food, flecked grey with dust.
Du kannst sie sehen.
Vielleicht kann ich eins mitbringen. Stimmt, sagte bfot Mann, und genau soviel Kaninchen habe ich. When they went to bed at night she always cleaned the tablecloth.
Death and Fame — two sides of war Learn how your comment data is processed. December 10, Reply. Alexis Levitin translates from the Spanish. We analsye and called for him. The fact that the protagonists are not presented by name and the place is not named either, shows that the author’s aim was to make the story relevant for different times and places.
That’s how they survive. Suddenly she woke up.
Rats Sleep at Night
Ich kann es nicht sagen. And mostly, always at half past two.
The view from They borhcert facing each other in their shirts. And bear in mind our kitchen was tiled. I mean, you’ve got to eat! When he came home the next evening she pushed four slices of bread over to him. Before he had only been able to eat three. Der Mann nahm den Korb hoch und richtete sich auf. Half past two, of all times. Unser Haus kriegte eine Bombe. I cannot allow myself to wofgang at the plate.
And barefoot — always barefoot. This moment could be seen as a turning point in the story. Er hatte die Augen zu. When he raised his clock up high again, he laughed. His fingertips were dirty. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: She turned on the light. Und er sah durch die Beine des Mannes hindurch. It was too quiet and as she ran her hand over the bed beside her, she found it empty. He was a lot smaller than me.
And I thought, this could never end.