Some years ago a Danish friend told me of her memories of the night Denmark was liberated from Nazi Germany. I spoke of my father who was in the Royal Navy. He was in Demark at that time and the idea for this poem drifted into my mind. This recording is special for me as Karen was there, her memories are first hand. Karen reads her mother’s word’s. The feature image is of blond Karen with her mother, father and sister. The music, Dolphin with Louis Cennamo – Electric Bass, Jim McCarty – Keyboards/Percussion, David Balen – Tabla, World Percussion, Dugald Brown – Electric Guitar. Sound effects copyright BBC 2024
Denmark – May 4th 1945
“Wake up Little Darling and see what is happening.
Her mother had never done that before, woken her up.
Tonight she felt different; eager, uninhibited
though these were words that came later – Karen was three.
you must not miss this special moment.
The heavy, black blinds were gone,
the windows wide, wide open,
everyone’s windows were open
“Se-der er lys! Look there is light!”
Nu er vi fri! Now, we are free.
There were candles on our window sill
there were candles on every one’s window sill
the night was bright with a thousand candles,
neighbours and strangers dance in the street
drank from bottles, kissing, cuddling, singing.
“There will be a lot of babies,” Mum said.
“Enough, enough, come let us go and dance.”
Men kissed her, kissed her mum
their moustaches bristling, lips alive
with the sharp stinging drink Dad made
in the shed where they pickled cucumbers.
The drink that made him sad, made him cry
was making everyone laugh, love and dance.
My Father was in Denmark then.
A lieutenant Commander in the Royal Navy
his last task was to accept surrender
from German garrisons around the coast.
All heavily armed, unpredictable.
“A side arm would have been of no use,
I decided to wear my dress uniform.
There was a picture in the paper:
British Officer takes surrender with gloves and cane.”
He then fell in love with a girl on the isle of Samsoe.
He came back but family life was never the same,
so I think of him tall and straight, sky-bright eyes,
standing in the prow of a tender with gloves, cap and cane.
© Anthony Fisher July 2013