3 мин
Слушать

To Posterity

1.

Indeed I live in the dark ages!

A guileless word is an absurdity.

A smooth forehead betokensA hard heart.

He who

Has not yet

The terrible tidings.

Ah, what an age it

When to speak of trees is almost a

For it is a kind of silence about injustice!

And he who walks calmly across the street,

Is he not out of reach of his

In trouble?

It is true:

I earn my

But, believe me, it is only an accident.

Nothing that I do entitles me to eat my fill.

By chance I was spared. (If my luck leaves meI am lost.)They tell me: eat and drink.

Be glad you have it!

But how can I eat and

When my food is snatched from the

And my glass of water belongs to the thirsty?

And yet I eat and drink.

I would gladly be wise.

The old books tell us what wisdom is:

Avoid the strife of the

Live out your little

Fearing no

Using no

Returning good for evil —Not fulfillment of desire but

Passes for wisdom.

I can do none of this:

Indeed I live in the dark ages!2.

I came to the cities in a time of

When hunger ruled.

I came among men in a time of

And I revolted with them.

So the time passed

Which on earth was given me.

I ate my food between massacres.

The shadow of murder lay upon my sleep.

And when I loved,

I loved with indifference.

I looked upon nature with impatience.

So the time passed

Which on earth was given me.

In my time streets led to the quicksand.

Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.

There was little I could do.

But without

The rulers would have been more secure.

This was my hope.

So the time passed

Which on earth was given me.3.

You, who shall emerge from the

In which we are sinking,

Think —When you speak of our weaknesses,

Also of the dark

That brought them forth.

For we went,changing our country more often than our shoes.

In the class war,

When there was only injustice and no resistance.

For we knew only too well:

Even the hatred of

Makes the brow grow stern.

Even anger against

Makes the voice grow harsh.

Alas,

Who wished to lay the foundations of

Could not ourselves be kind.

But you, when at last it comes to

That man can help his fellow man,

Do no judge

Too harshly.translated by H.

R.

Hays

0
0
23
Подарок

Bertolt Brecht

Eugen Berthold Friedrich Brecht (10 February 1898 – 14 August 1956), known professionally as Bertolt Brecht (German: [ˈbɛʁˌt̩ɔlt bʁɛçt] (About t…

Другие работы автора

Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий

Сегодня читают

Приметы потепления
Я любила его бороду
Ты присядь ...
Ryfma
Ryfma - это социальная сеть для публикации книг, стихов и прозы, для общения писателей и читателей. Публикуй стихи и прозу бесплатно.