Mascha Kaléko was a German-language poet known for her keen insight and a life marked by luminous creativity and poignant exile. She transformed personal hardship and Berlin’s cultural scene of the 1920/30s into verses of resilient beauty. Her Das lyrische Stenogrammheft is a gem of modern poetry—witty, melancholic, and deeply human. Rooted in the modernist movement of Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity), her work presents a clear-eyed, pragmatic view of life, while its lyrical simplicity and human depth reveal layers of complexity upon closer inspection. Kaléko’s poetry is between chanson and Gebrauchslyrik, capturing the spirit of modern urban life with almost prophetic accuracy.
Between her bohemian lifestyle and incisive verses, one can easily imagine that she would have been a fantastic poet for the Instagram age, resonating with contemporary audiences. Her verses continue to offer almost too-accurate descriptions of everyday working life in modern cities—perhaps reflecting the sentiment that the 2020s feel like the beginning of the end once again.
Take, for example, the opening lines of Chanson vom Montag (Monday’s Song):
Montag hat die Welt noch kein Gesicht
Und kein Mensch kann ihr ins Auge sehen.
Montag heißt: schon wieder früh aufstehen,
Training für das Wochen-Schwergewicht.Und die Bahnen brausen, das Auto kläfft,
Die Arbeit marschiert in den Städten.
Alle Straßen hallen wider von Betrieb und von Geschäft,
Und die Riesensummen wachsen in ein unsichtbares Heft,
— Doch nie in das Heft des Proleten.
Mondays, the world has no face yet
And no one dare look it in the eye.
Monday means: Get up early again,
Train for the heavyweight week.And the trains are roaring, the car is barking,
Work marches in the cities.
All the streets echo with activity and business,
And the huge sums flow into an invisible book,
— But never into the book of the proletarian.(My translation)
Thoughts?