A Brief History of Condensation Trails

translated from the German by Monika Cassel

when in September the privet berries ripened steadfast
and dark and stretched into the blue of a sky that
no longer served as backdrop for a pair of skyscrapers
back then when we still thought freighters
were laden with nothing but the feathers of the birds
that circled over them or ice for our chronic migraines
snippets of ripped-up memories and containers
full of the hoarseness from pointless talking

back then—this is true—the days weren’t any shorter
and opportunities to do right weren’t any fewer
and it is also true that I did nothing but read
the newspaper give birth to you and to your sisters
and watch airplanes in the sky as if it were just the same
old game again but even then I had already founded a shipping firm
to ship off everything that I ought to have done to
some other place and actually I sometimes even
sat in those planes that left condensation trails in their wakes

your face was the profile picture for the new millennium
which I couldn’t even begin to understand
because I was still preoccupied with the previous one
now you send me photos of freighters stripped
of their steely skin on the beaches of Chittagong
and an emoji about the asbestos-tainted mud
six Eurofighters take off for Exercise
Pitch Black it is Assumption Day cloudless
sky the Gasumlage fee is coming the chimney sweep
carries chemtrail conspiracy theories instead of luck
into the houses the privet is steadfast and dark
 

 


 

Kurze Geschichte der Kondensstreifen

 

als im September der Liguster unbeirrt und dunkel
reifte und ins Blau des Himmels ragte das nun nicht
mehr der Hintergrund zweier Wolkenkratzer war
damals als die Frachter in unseren Gedanken noch
mit nichts als Federn der darüber kreisenden Vögel
beladen waren dem Eis gegen die große Migräne
den Schnipseln zerrissener Entschuldigungen
und Containern voll Heiserkeit vom sinnlosen Reden

damals waren – das ist wahr – die Tage nicht kürzer
und die Gelegenheiten das Richtige zu tun nicht weniger
und wahr ist auch ich habe nichts getan als Zeitung
lesen dich zur Welt bringen und deine Schwestern
den Flugzeugen nachsehen als wäre es das alte Spiel
dabei habe ich schon damals eine Reederei gegründet
um alles was ich hätte tun sollen in andere Gegenden
zu verschiffen und eigentlich saß ich sogar manchmal
in den Flugzeugen die Kondensstreifen hinterließen

dein Gesicht war das Profilbild des neuen Jahrhunderts
das ich nicht mal angefangen hatte zu verstehen
weil ich noch mit dem vorigen beschäftigt war
jetzt schickst du mir Fotos von Frachtern am Strand
von Chittagong ihrer stählernen Haut entkleidet
und ein Emoji für asbestverseuchten Schlamm
über mir starten sechs Eurofighter zur Übung
Pitch Black es ist Mariä Himmelfahrt wolkenloser
Himmel die Gasumlage kommt der Schornsteinfeger
trägt statt Glück das Gerede von Chemtrails
durch die Häuser unbeirrt und dunkel der Liguster

Credit

Copyright © 2026 by Daniela Danz, translated by Monika Cassel. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on September 11, 2026, by the Academy of American Poets.

About this Poem

“In this poem, the year 2001 is a watershed moment—a time when the sky was still just a backdrop and contrails felt almost innocent. We hadn’t yet confronted how air travel, freight shipping and consumption would bring melting ice, poisoned coastlines, and the conditions our children will inherit. Thus retrospection speaks not just to personal guilt but also to that of a society that might have confronted this knowledge yet carried on as if responsibility could simply be shipped off elsewhere. In the poem’s present, we see the gas levy, military jets, and chemtrail conspiracy theories: Real circumstances receive false explanations.”
—Daniela Danz

“It feels vertiginous to translate this poem: remembering the war that began not long after the poem’s first September, when my first daughter was born; observing another war that was only on the horizon when I wrote my first draft. As always, Danz’s characteristic minimal punctuation and lines that break against her sentences’ syntax call me to bring my mother-tongue’s music—here particularly in the poem’s refrain of ripening and darkening ligustrum berries—into my father-tongue. Two brief context notes: chimney sweeps are German good-luck symbols; the Gasumlage was a levy imposed in Germany after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.”
—Monika Cassel

Translators