Berliner Winterabend by Oskar Loerke, 1934

Häuser, trübe Tafeln, beschmiert mit brennender Schrift,
Die zuckend ruft und bettelnd beteuert.
Sterne sind in Wolken auf der Trift,
Der blaue Lein des Sommers ist längst eingescheuert.

Nackte Bäume wie Besen der Arbeitlosen.
Darüber streunt der freie Wind.
Ein Hauch von Süden macht das Auge blind:
Weit reicht der Dufthof der Mimosen.

Houses, dim boards, daubed with as earing script
That twitching calls out and begging affirms.
Stars are at pasture in clouds,
Summer's blue flax was garnered long ago.

Naked trees like brooms of the unemployed.
Above them tramps the free wind.
A breath from the south makes the eye go blind:
Very far the fragrance range of mimosa extends.

by Bertolt Brecht, 1932.

In Berlin's East, too, Social Democrats
Greeted us with 'Red Front', and even wore the badge
of the Antifascist Action. The taverns
Were packed on discussion nights.
And right away, the Nazis dared
No longer go singly thru our streets
For the streets at least are ours
When they have taken our houses