I tugged at my wagon, though I felt so feeble
And stopped in a street in our East End.
I stood there and thought: My friend,
you are so feeble. If you don't make an effort
you'll start collapsing
in front of all these people
Twenty minutes later
I was nothing but a heap of bones
in the roadway!
And while I was lying collapsed in the darkness
(my driver ran to telephone)
a horde of hungry people appeared
out of the doorways, started frantically trying
each to be first to cut the meat from my carcase
and they saw that I was still alive, and very far from
finished with dying.
But all these people, I thought, were once my familiars.
They used to bring sacks to help me keep off the flies,
gave me old crusts to eat, and came up to advise
my driver that he must not beat me.
Once so kind-hearted, and now they're turned to killers!
What on earth can they have been through that would
make them change their ways so completely?
That led me to ask: who has sent such coldness
right into the heart of the human race?
What's blowing into their face
so as to make them grow so freezing?
Please come to their aid, and act now with boldness,
or the consequences could well be beyond all reason.
Music sample © 1994 edel GmbH. Translation by John Willett in Bertolt Brecht: Poems 1913-1956 © 1990 by Methuen London.