The Collected Poems of Bertolt Brecht
Page 50
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?