There could be trees
It could be a forest
There could be moonlight
A little moonlight through the tall trees
Silence but for the soft stirrings of
The gentle rustling of the leaves also
The deep silence of the forest could be
A train could pass through the forest
It could be black
A steam train with many carriages
The wheels of the train could scream
on the rails
Breaking the deep silence of the forest
The forest animals could take flight
There could be a wooden house
somewhere deep in the forest
Here the Forester could live
He could live alone
He could love the forest
Hearing the train pass through the
forest he could stand in the doorway
of his house
In the moonlight he could see far off
through the tall trees the smoke and
sparks come pluming from the black
funnel of the train
He could wonder where the train was
heading and why it was passing so late
at night at such speed through his
He could not know the answer
Espenbaum, dein Laub blickt weiss in Dunkel.
Meiner Mutter Haar ward nimmer weiss.
Lowenzahn, so grun is die Ukraine.
Meine blonde Mutter kam nicht heim.
Regenwolke, saumst du an den Brunnen?
Meine leise Mutter weint fur alle.
Runder Stern, du schlingst die goldne Schleife.
Meine Mutter Herz ward wund von Blei.
Eichne Tur, wer hob dich aus den Angeln?
Meine sanfte Mutter kann nicht kommen.
[Aspen tree, your leaves glance white into the dark
My mother's hair was never white.
Dandelion, so green is the Ukraine.
My blonde mother did not come home.
Rain cloud, do you hover above the well?
My quiet mother weeps for everyone.
Round star, you wind the golden loop.
My mother's heart was ripped by lead.
Oaken door, who lifted you off your hinges?
My gentle mother cannot return.]
Albert Speer wearing a long dark over
He is stooped with age or weariness
He stands motionless
He also wears a long dark overcoat
He also is stooped with age or weariness
CASALIS: Where are you tonight?
SPEER: Crossing the Alps
CASALIS: You still have a long way to go you'll never finish
SPEER: Some things aren't meant to be finished I'd tike to finish the garden seedling pines and lindens arrived today I've been making sketches trying to visualise the garden when it's completed but no landscape architect has ever seen in nature what was present to his mind's eye
CASALIS: It's time to come in
SPEER: Trees bushes flowers grass they take too long to grow together into a landscape but I want to see at least the beginnings of the thing I am working for
At the same time I fear that very thing
SPEER: Spandau has become a meaning in itself
CASALIS: I have some more books for you I'll bring them to you in the morning
SPEER: I'd rather have them tonight I can't sleep
CASALIS: In the morning
SPEER: Have you noticed that young sapling by the path? I didn't plant it the garden is transforming itself perhaps it's less mine than I think
CASALIS: It isn't yours
SPEER: No but one can't help feeling that way
CASALIS: It's time to come in
SPEER: A blackbird bathed in the pond today and afterwards sang above my head in the walnut tree a young sparrow lost its way underneath the garden bench five hawks flew above and one of them settled down on a tap flew onto the lawn and almost fell on its face because it was still so young and clumsy finally a wild pigeon came and perched in the lowest branch of the walnut tree Herr Hess and I had been sitting beneath the tree in silence for more than an hour tike statues then into the stillness Hess said almost with embarrassment 'Like paradise'
CASALIS: It's time to come in
SPEER: I can't sleep
CASALIS: It's time
Casalis turns and moves off
Speer follows him
Once the train had passed the Forester
could walk out of his house and into
the deep silence of the forest
The darkness and silence of the forest
is a tumult in which
one unaccustomed to them could be
But the Forester could see the forest
differently from others
It could be the way a man sees his be
It could be coming closer
It could be dying away
A man could see the last of his beloved's
He could see her face for the first time
over and over again
Such could be the way the Forester
walks through his beloved forest
As a man walks beside bis beloved
The Forester could find a corpse in the
Her hair could be golden hued or ashen
It could spread out from her head as it
might spread in a great
fan were she lying on the surface of a
But she could be lying there among the
Her skin as pale as milk
The Forester could take the woman in
He could carry her through the forest
Back through the oaken door of his
He could lay her on his bed
And sit alone
Looking at her
He could see the star sewn on her dress
Sewn there above her heart
He could look at the star and wonder
what it meant
He could think that she was a holy
The Forester could speak to the dead
woman and she could answer him
Such things could happen in the deep
silence of the forest
Where no voice is heard
I am Magarete I am Shulamith the
dead woman could say
He could ask her where she came from
She could tell him she came from
Speer walks around the garden accompanied by Hess
SPEER: Lacking a proper tape measure I simply measured my shoe paced off the distance step by step and multiplied by the number of paces placing one foot ahead of the other eight hundred and seventy times thirty one centimetres to a step yields two hundred and seventy metres for a circuit of the garden if I had taken a different route along the prison wall I could have made my track three hundred and fifty metres but this route has a better view
Every week I add up the kilometres calculate the weekly average enter the kilometres for the week in a table with one column for the general average and another for the total number of
kilometres I have to reach seven times seven kilometres by the end of the week if I don't I have to make up for it the following week I keep count of my circuits by putting these beans in my left pocket after every circuit I drop one into my right pocket
HESS: I suppose it passes the time
SPEER: No more than that I'm actually going somewhere
HESS: Around the garden
SPEER: I began with a walk from Berlin to Heidelberg six hundred and twenty six kilometres in ninety days then I set out for Munich
HESS: Doesn't all this worry you? …