The Swamp | A poem by Bertolt Brecht, 1947

Gustav Klimt, The Swamp 1900

I beheld many friends,
And the friend I held the most,
Helplessly sink into the swamp
I pass by daily

And a drowning was not over in a single morning.
Often it took
many weeks; this made it more terrible
And the memory of our long
agreeing talks about the swamp, which already held so many

Powerless now I saw him leaning back
covered with leeches
in the shimmering
softly moving slime. Upon the sinking face
the ghastly blissful smile.

Bertolt Brecht, The Swamp, 1947
tr Naomi Replansky

Also:
Persons [ ] Stupidity Isn’t Invincible | Bertolt Brecht, 1898 – 1956
On [:] A crook | Bertolt Brecht, 1943
Writers playing Chess | Helen Keller / Hans Fallada / Ingeborg Bachmann / Fernando Pessoa / Vladimir Nabokov / Neal Cassady