O Germany Pale Mother!
Let others speak of her shame,
I speak of my own.
O Germany, pale mother!
How soiled you are As you sit among the peoples.
You flaunt yourself Among the besmirched.
The poorest of your sons Lies struck down.
When his hunger was great.
Your other sons Raised their hands against him.
This is notorious.
With their hands thus raised,
Raised against their brother,
They march insolently around you And laugh in your face.
This is well known.
In your house Lies are roared aloud.
But the truth Must be silent.
Is it so?
Why do the oppressors praise you everywhere,
The oppressed accuse you?
The plundered Point to you with their fingers, but The plunderer praises the system That was invented in your house!
Whereupon everyone sees you Hiding the hem of your mantle which is bloody With the blood Of your best sons.
Hearing the harangues which echo from your house, men laugh.
But whoever sees you reaches for a knife As at the approach of a robber.
O Germany, pale mother!
How have your sons arrayed you That you sit among the peoples A thing of scorn and fear!
Bertolt Brecht
Other author posts
Fragen
Schreib mir, was du anhast Ist es warm Schreib mir, wie du liegst Liegst du auch weich
I Want To Go With The One I Love
[Original]Ich will mit dem gehen, den ich liebe Ich will nicht ausrechnen, was es kostet Ich will nicht nachdenken, ob es gut ist Ich will nicht wissen, ob er mich liebt
To Posterity
1 Indeed I live in the dark ages A guileless word is an absurdity A smooth forehead betokensA hard heart
How Fortunate the Man with None
From the play Mother CourageYou saw sagacious You know what came of him, To him complexities seemed plain He cursed the hour that gave birth to
