Drohende Aussicht (Threatening Outlook)

Drohende Aussicht 

Der Himmel kreist, dir schwankt das Land,

vom Schnellzug hin und her geschüttelt

saust Ackerrand um Ackerrand,ein Frösteln hat dich wachgerüttelt:

die Morgensonne kommt.

Mühsam entstiebt dem Nebelzelt

ein Krähnvolk, herbstlich abgemagert,

indes sich dick aufs Düngerfeld

der Frührauch der Fabriken lagert;

die Morgensonne kommt.

Schwarz schiebt sich durch den grauen Flor

ein langer Zug von Schlackenbergen,

Schornstein an Schornstein schnellt empor,

schreckhafte Hüter neben Särgen;

die Morgensonne kommt.

Vom Horizont her nahn mit Hast

und einen sich zwei Straßendämme,

von Apfelbäumen eingefaßt,

schon blaß beglänzt die knorrigen Stämme;

die Morgensonne kommt.

Nun folgt zum andern Himmelssaum

dein Blick den fruchtberaubten Zweigen,

und plötzlich siehst du Baum an Baum

sein brandrot glühendes Laub dir zeigen:

der Tag ist da.

My Translation:

Threatening Outlook:

The sky revolves, the land sways beneath you, 

jolted back and forth by the express train

racing from field to field, 

a chill has awaken you:

the morning sun rises

A flock of crows emerge slowly from the canopy of fog

thinned by autumn

while thick fog from factories 

settles on the manure field;

the morning sun rises.

Black pushes through a pile of grey,

a long line of slag heaps,

chimney after chimney shoots up,

skittish guardians next to coffins

the morning sun rises.

From the horizon, two road ways

approached hastily,

lined with apple trees,

their gnarled trunks faintly gleaming;

the morning sun rises.

Now your gaze turns to the other edge of the sky,

the fruitless branches,

and suddenly you see tree after tree

revealing its fiery red foliage:

the day has come.

Commentary and Analysis:

Richard Dehmel’s “Drohende Aussicht” elegantly disguises the traditional symbolism of dawn as renewal. The poem builds a tense atmosphere through the perspective of a train passenger witnessing a bleak, industrial landscape. Imagery of fog, emaciated crows, factory smoke, and slag-heaps—described as “frightful guardians beside coffins”—paints a picture of a diseased modern world. The recurring line, “the morning sun is coming,” sounds more ominous than hopeful.

The poem eventually reveals the true result of this threat in the final stanza. The focus shifts to sterile trees, which are suddenly illuminated not with gentle light, but with a “blazing crimson” glow. This “fire-red” color evokes the image of destruction, rather than the warmth of a sunrise. The final shift to “the day is here” confirms the danger. The awaited dawn is not expected, but a terrifying unveiling, exposing a world consumed by a destructive force: industrialisation.

Dehmel thus portrays a modernist anxiety, where progress and industry have created a world where the beauty of nature is covered by human innovation, and the future brings not hope, but horror.