The Collected Poems of Bertolt Brecht

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The Collected Poems of Bertolt Brecht Page 50

by Tom Kuhn


  Heavy tanks.

  The housepainter talks of peace.

  Straightening their aching backs

  Their hands on the big gun barrels

  The foundry workers listen.

  The bomber pilots cut their motors

  And listen

  To the housepainter talking of peace.

  The woodsmen stand listening in the silent forests

  The farmers leave their ploughs and raise a hand to their ears

  The women bringing food into the fields stop and stand:

  In the field on the broken clods stands a lorry with megaphones. From there

  They hear the housepainter calling for peace.

  When the top brass speak of peace

  The common folk know

  There’ll be war.

  When the top brass inveigh against war

  The draft papers have already been printed.

  The brass

  Have gathered in one room.

  Man on the street

  Abandon all hope.

  The governments

  Are drafting non-aggression pacts.

  Little man

  Write your will.

  Man with the threadbare coat:

  In the textile factories

  They’re weaving a tunic for you

  And it won’t be you who tears it.

  You who walk for hours to get to work

  In tattered shoes: the carriage

  They’re building for you needs

  Walls of steel.

  For a bowl of milk for your children

  Steelworker, you’re forging a great flask.

  It won’t be filled with milk. Who

  Will drink from it?

  On the wall in chalk were the words:

  They want war.

  He who wrote it

  Has already fallen.

  The top brass are saying:

  The road leads to glory.

  In the ranks they’re saying:

  It leads to the grave.

  The war that is coming

  Is not the first. Before it

  There were other wars.

  When the last one was over

  There were victors and vanquished.

  Amongst the vanquished the lowly folk

  Went hungry. Amongst the victors

  The lowly folk went hungry also.

  The top brass say: in the army

  The nation stands together.

  Whether that’s true you’ll learn

  In the kitchens.

  In your hearts there’s to be

  The same courage. But

  In your bowls

  Two different meals.

  When it comes to marching, many do not know

  That it’s their enemy marching at their head.

  The voice that commands them

  Is the voice of their enemy.

  He who speaks of the enemy

  Is himself the enemy.

  General, your tank is a powerful thing.

  It can break down a forest and crush a hundred men.

  But it has one defect:

  It needs a driver.

  General, your bomber is powerful.

  It flies faster than the wind and carries more than an elephant.

  But it has one defect:

  It needs a mechanic.

  General, a man can be turned to many uses.

  He can fly and he can kill.

  But he has one defect:

  He can think.

  When the war begins

  Your brothers will perhaps be changed

  So their faces are no longer recognizable.

  But you must remain the same.

  They will go to war, not

  As to the slaughter, but

  As if on some earnest mission. They

  Will have forgotten everything.

  But you must forget nothing.

  You’ll have brandy poured down your throats

  Like all the others.

  But you must remain sober.

  The housepainter will say that distant lands are being conquered

  But you will sit down in the kitchen,

  To boiled turnips.

  The housepainter will say

  He won’t yield an inch

  And you will finger the paper-thin cloth of your jacket.

  When the victory bells ring out

  You will deliver the lists of the fallen.

  When the drummer begins his war

  You must continue your war.

  He will see enemies in front, but

  When he looks around, he must

  See enemies behind him also:

  When he begins his war

  All around he shall see only enemies.

  The marching hordes

  Driven on by his SS men

  Shall march against him.

  Your boots will be poor, but even if

  They were of the finest leather, it shall be

  His enemies who march in them.

  Your rations will be meagre, but even if they were ample

  They shall not satisfy you.

  His SS men shall not be permitted to sleep.

  They will have to check every gun

  To see if it’s actually loaded. And he will have to check

  Every checker, to see if they’re actually checking.

  All that goes to him must be destroyed, and all

  That issues from him must be used against him.

  Courageous is he who takes the fight to him.

  Clever is he who brings his plans to nothing.

  Only he who resists him can help Germany.

  II

  In the dark times

  Will there be singing?

  There will be singing.

  Of the dark times.

  German song

  They’re talking again of great times

  (Anna, don’t weep)

  The grocer will give us credit.

  They’re talking again of honour

  (Anna, don’t weep)

  There’s nothing in the cupboard they can take.

  They’re talking again of victories

  (Anna, don’t weep)

  I’ll be sure they don’t get me.

  The armies are marching

  (Anna, don’t weep)

  When I return

  It will be under a different flag.

  Ballad of the Jew’s whore Marie Sanders

  1

  In Nuremberg they made a law

  And many a woman wept who

  Lay in bed with the wrong man.

  They’re striking up meat in the townships

  The drums beat loud and bright

  God in heaven, if there’s something brewing

  It would have to be tonight.

  2

  Marie Sanders, your beloved

  His hair is much too black.

  Better not be to him today

  As you were to him last night.

  They’re striking up meat in the townships

  The drums beat loud and bright

  God in heaven, if there’s something brewing

  It would have to be tonight.

  3

  Mother, give me the key

  It’s not so bad as you think

  The moon looks just as ever.

  They’re striking up meat in the townships

  The drums beat loud and bright

  God in heaven, if there’s something brewing

  It would have to be tonight.

  4

  One fine morning, at nine o’clock

  She paraded through the town

  In her nightshirt, sign around her neck, hair shorn.

  The street jeered. Her eyes

  Were cold.

  They’re striking up meat in the townships

  And Streicher speaks tonight

  Good God, if they had but half an ear

  They’d know what was setting them alight.

&nbs
p; Ballad of the widows of Osek

  1

  The widows of Osek in widow’s weeds

  Came to Prague looking for answers:

  What can you do for us and our children, pray?

  They have had nothing to eat all day.

  And their fathers lie dead in your mines, sirs.

  What, asked the gentlemen of Prague

  What should one do with the widows of Osek?

  2

  The widows of Osek in widow’s weeds

  Met militiamen lining the roadside.

  What can you do for us and our children, pray?

  They have had nothing to eat all day.

  Well, the militiamen checked their guns were loaded.

  That, said the officers of the police

  That’s what we can do for the widows of Osek.

  3

  The widows of Osek in widow’s weeds

  Pressed on to the houses of parliament.

  What can you do for us and our children, pray?

  They’re hungry now and they must eat today!

  Well, the deputies gave speeches long and eloquent.

  That, the honourable members said

  That’s what we can do for the widows of Osek.

  4

  The widows of Osek in widow’s weeds

  Stayed out all night on the streets of the town.

  Someone in Prague must help! they prayed.

  It was a cold November day

  And snow in big wet flakes came down.

  That, said the snow

  That’s what we can do for the widows of Osek.

  Song of the starling flocks

  1

  We set out in the month of October

  In the province of Suiyuan

  We flew swiftly in a southerly direction, without wavering

  Through four provinces in five days.

  Fly faster, the plains are waiting

  The cold is increasing and

  There it is warm.

  2

  We set out and were eight thousand

  From the province of Suiyuan

  We grew more by thousands each day, the further we came

  Through four provinces in five days.

  Fly faster, the plains are waiting

  The cold is increasing and

  There it is warm.

  3

  Now we’re flying over the plains

  In the province of Hunan

  Beneath us we see great nets and know

  Whither we have flown in five days:

  The plains have waited

  The warmth is increasing and

  Our death is certain.

  Children’s Songs

  Ulm 1592

  Bishop, I can fly

  Said the tailor to the bishop.

  I’ll show you if you watch!

  And he climbed with clumsy things

  That looked a bit like wings

  To the church roof’s steep steep pitch.

  The bishop walked on by.

  It’s just a big fat lie

  We men are not birds

  Mankind will never fly

  Said the bishop of the tailor.

  The tailor’s passed away

  Said the people to the bishop.

  We should have known

  His wings are torn to tatters

  And his body lies shattered

  On the town square’s hard hard stone

  Let the bells ring from the steeple

  It was just a big fat lie

  We men are not birds

  Mankind will never fly

  Said the bishop to the people.

  The child that wouldn’t wash

  Once there was a child

  Who didn’t want to wash

  And when they took the soap, it smiled

  And smeared itself with ash.

  The Kaiser came to town

  With pipe and drum and mace

  The mother looked to find a towel

  To wipe the child’s face.

  No towel was on the hook

  The Kaiser went his way

  Before the child could catch a look.

  The child had no say.

  Little begging song

  Sing another song and as you sing

  Remember the landlord has his penny on a string

  He takes it on a lead like a little puppy

  So it can’t run off and make someone else happy.

  Sing loud!

  In front of the neighbours to be mean he’ll be too proud.

  Loud and prettily sing your part

  That’ll go straight to the landlord’s heart.

  Loud and prettily, and wedge your foot

  Firmly in the door, so he can’t push it shut.

  In a trice

  It’s “not today thank you” and the door slams in your face.

  And when he reaches in his purse

  Be careful you don’t come off worse

  Say please and thank you, but be alert

  To what he tosses in the dirt

  The swine

  Will just as soon toss you a button as a dime.

  The plum tree

  A plum tree grows against our wall

  It isn’t very big at all.

  A little fence about

  Keeps careless footsteps out.

  The poor thing can’t grow any more

  Though if it could it would for sure.

  There’s nothing can be done

  It gets too little sun.

  That it’s a plum you’d never know

  On its branches no plums grow

  But it is a plum, no doubt.

  The leaf will bear it out.

  My brother was a pilot

  My brother was a pilot

  One day he got the order

  So he packed his things and flew

  South across the border.

  My brother is a conqueror

  Our nation’s short of space

  It’s been an ancient dream to get

  More land for our race.

  It’s in the Guadarrama

  The plot he got to plunder

  It’s just six feet in length and

  Three and half feet under.

  God preserve us

  Baker, your bread is spoilt!

  The bread’s not spoilt, that can’t be so

  The flour was good and the proofing slow

  And I took such care in the baking

  So if it’s spoilt—here’s the rub

  It must have been Beelzebub

  On his account it’s spoilt.

  Tailor, the coat is ruined!

  The coat’s not ruined, it can’t be so

  I took the finest needle to sew

  And I cut the cloth with the greatest care

  So if it’s ruined—here’s the rub

  It must have been Beelzebub

  On his account it’s ruined.

  Mason, the wall has tumbled!

  The wall’s not tumbled, it can’t be so

  I plumbed the line from high to low

  And I took such care with the mortar

  So if it’s ruined—here’s the rub

  It must have been Beelzebub

  On his account it’s tumbled.

  Chancellor, the people are starving!

  The people starving, that can’t be so

  Both meat and wine I willingly forgo

  And speak for you every night and day

  So if you’re starving—here’s the rub

  It must have been Beelzebub

  On his account you’re starving.

  Good people, the Chancellor’s been lynched!

  The Chancellor lynched? It can’t be so

  He was on his guard against any foe

  With a thousand men to protect him

  So if he’s lynched—aye, here’s the rub

  It must have been Beelzebub

  It was he that lynched the Chancellor.

  Non
e or all

  1

  Slave, who will set you free?

  Those who languish in the depths

  Will see you, comrade, in your plight

  They will hear you when you cry.

  Slaves like yourself will set you free.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  On your own you have no chance.

  Guns or chains the choice.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  2

  Who will feed you, you who hunger?

  If you need a crust to chew

  Come to us who hunger too

  Let us help you on the journey.

  The hungry will feed those who hunger.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  On your own you have no chance.

  Guns or chains the choice.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  3

  Who will avenge you for the beatings?

  You whom they dare so to maltreat

  Join with all the rest they beat

  For, despite our grievous weakness

  Comrade, we will have our vengeance.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  On your own you have no chance.

  Guns or chains the choice.

  All or nothing. None or all.

  4

  You who are wretched, who will dare?

 

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