no army restrains me
And no country. As if I were the last of the guard
Or a poet wander in his fears…
VI.
Ring the Curtain
Downâ¦
The Testimony of Bertolt Brecht before a Military Court
(1967)
Your Honour!
I am not a soldier,
So what do you want from me?
What the court is talking about is no business of mine,
The past has swiftly gone into the past…
Without hearing a word from me.
The war has retired into the café for a rest…
And your airmen have returned safe
And the sky has broken in my language, Your Honour
– And this is my personal business –
But your subjects are dragging my sky behind them… delighted
And are overlooking my heart, and throwing banana skins
Down the well. They are passing quickly in front of me
And saying: Good evening, sometimes,
And coming into the courtyard of my house… quietly
And sleeping on the cloud of my sleep… securely
And speaking my very words,
In my stead,
To my window, and to the summer which sweats jasmine essence
And they re-dream my own dream,
In my stead,
And they weep with my eyes psalms of longing
And sing, as I sang to olive and fig
To the partial and the whole in the hidden meaning
And they live my life just as they please,
In my stead,
And they tread carefully on my name…
And I, Your Honour am here
In the hall of the past, a prisoner
The war is over. Your officers have come back safe
And the vines have spread in my language, Your
Honour – and this is my personal business – if
My cell hems me in, the Earth is wide,
But your subjects are angrily examining my words
And calling out to Akhab and Jezebel: Come on, inherit
Naboth’s rich orchard!
And they say: God is ours
And the Earth of God as well
And no one else’s!
What do you want, Your Honour,
From a passer-by among passers-by?
In a country where executioner asks
His victims to recommend him for medals!
Now is the time for me to cry out
And drop the mask of words:
This is a cell, Sir, not a court
And I am witness and judge. You are the prosecution
So leave the bench, and go: you are free I am free,
Prisoner judge
Your airmen have come back safe
And the sky has broken in my first language –
And this is my personal business – so that
Our dead return to us – safe!
A Disagreement, Non-Linguistic, with Imruâ al-Qais
They rang the curtain down
Leaving to us room to return to others
Defective. We went up to the cinema screen
Smiling, as we should be on
The cinema screen, and we improvised words already prepared
For us, regretting the last opportunity
For martyrs. Then we took a bow submitting
Our names to those who are walking on either side. And we returned
To our tomorrow, defectiveâ¦
*
They rang the curtain down
They triumphed
They passed over all our yesterday,
They forgave
Their victim his sins when he apologised
Words that would come into his mind,
They changed Timeâs bell
And they triumphedâ¦
*
When they brought us to the chapter before the last
We looked back: there was smoke
Towering up from time, white, over the gardens
Behind us. And the peacocks spread their fans
Of colour around Caesarâs message to those who repented
Of the words which were worn out. For example:
The description of a freedom that cannot find its bread. The description
Of bread without the salt of freedom, or praise of a dove
Flying far from longingâ¦
Caesarâs message was like champagne to the smoke
Ascending from the balcony of Time
Whiteâ¦
*
They rang the curtain down
They triumphed
They photographed our skies to their heartâs content
One star at a time
They photographed our days to their heartâs content
One cloud at a time,
They changed Timeâs bell
And they triumphedâ¦
*
We looked at our role on the coloured tape,
But could not find a star to the North or a tent
To the South. We did not recognise our voice, ever.
Our blood did not speak over the microphones on
That
And no country. As if I were the last of the guard
Or a poet wander in his fears…
VI.
Ring the Curtain
Downâ¦
The Testimony of Bertolt Brecht before a Military Court
(1967)
Your Honour!
I am not a soldier,
So what do you want from me?
What the court is talking about is no business of mine,
The past has swiftly gone into the past…
Without hearing a word from me.
The war has retired into the café for a rest…
And your airmen have returned safe
And the sky has broken in my language, Your Honour
– And this is my personal business –
But your subjects are dragging my sky behind them… delighted
And are overlooking my heart, and throwing banana skins
Down the well. They are passing quickly in front of me
And saying: Good evening, sometimes,
And coming into the courtyard of my house… quietly
And sleeping on the cloud of my sleep… securely
And speaking my very words,
In my stead,
To my window, and to the summer which sweats jasmine essence
And they re-dream my own dream,
In my stead,
And they weep with my eyes psalms of longing
And sing, as I sang to olive and fig
To the partial and the whole in the hidden meaning
And they live my life just as they please,
In my stead,
And they tread carefully on my name…
And I, Your Honour am here
In the hall of the past, a prisoner
The war is over. Your officers have come back safe
And the vines have spread in my language, Your
Honour – and this is my personal business – if
My cell hems me in, the Earth is wide,
But your subjects are angrily examining my words
And calling out to Akhab and Jezebel: Come on, inherit
Naboth’s rich orchard!
And they say: God is ours
And the Earth of God as well
And no one else’s!
What do you want, Your Honour,
From a passer-by among passers-by?
In a country where executioner asks
His victims to recommend him for medals!
Now is the time for me to cry out
And drop the mask of words:
This is a cell, Sir, not a court
And I am witness and judge. You are the prosecution
So leave the bench, and go: you are free I am free,
Prisoner judge
Your airmen have come back safe
And the sky has broken in my first language –
And this is my personal business – so that
Our dead return to us – safe!
A Disagreement, Non-Linguistic, with Imruâ al-Qais
They rang the curtain down
Leaving to us room to return to others
Defective. We went up to the cinema screen
Smiling, as we should be on
The cinema screen, and we improvised words already prepared
For us, regretting the last opportunity
For martyrs. Then we took a bow submitting
Our names to those who are walking on either side. And we returned
To our tomorrow, defectiveâ¦
*
They rang the curtain down
They triumphed
They passed over all our yesterday,
They forgave
Their victim his sins when he apologised
Words that would come into his mind,
They changed Timeâs bell
And they triumphedâ¦
*
When they brought us to the chapter before the last
We looked back: there was smoke
Towering up from time, white, over the gardens
Behind us. And the peacocks spread their fans
Of colour around Caesarâs message to those who repented
Of the words which were worn out. For example:
The description of a freedom that cannot find its bread. The description
Of bread without the salt of freedom, or praise of a dove
Flying far from longingâ¦
Caesarâs message was like champagne to the smoke
Ascending from the balcony of Time
Whiteâ¦
*
They rang the curtain down
They triumphed
They photographed our skies to their heartâs content
One star at a time
They photographed our days to their heartâs content
One cloud at a time,
They changed Timeâs bell
And they triumphedâ¦
*
We looked at our role on the coloured tape,
But could not find a star to the North or a tent
To the South. We did not recognise our voice, ever.
Our blood did not speak over the microphones on
That
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