The Collected Poems of Bertolt Brecht

by Tom Kuhn

  And we had our daily bread on the Prairies

  A fresh wind and the moon on Saturday evenings

  And on the Prairies things weren’t good enough for us

  2

  We had a house in San Francisco

  An automobile business and new clothes

  And: things are bad here, said Billy

  But in Massachusetts they’ll be better

  And we had food to eat in San Francisco

  Pretty clothes and jazz too on Saturday evenings

  And in San Francisco things weren’t good enough for us

  3

  We had a tent in Massachusetts

  An oilfield and a drilling rig

  Yet: things are bad here, said Billy

  But in Chicago they’ll be better

  And we had a roof over our heads in Massachusetts

  A stove and the Bible on Saturday evenings

  And in Massachusetts things weren’t good enough for us

  4

  We haven’t got a room in Chicago

  Not a dollar, no prospects, my God

  And now: things are bad here, says Billy

  But they won’t be better anywhere else

  And once we had money and prospects

  Work in the week and free on Saturday evenings

  And everywhere it wasn’t good enough for us

  Old Mother Beimlen

  Old Mother Beimlen has a pegleg

  She walks quite well with that and a shoe

  If we ask her can we see her pegleg

  Be good, she says, and I’ll show it you.

  In that pegleg there is a nail

  And on that nail she hangs her key

  So she can find it even in the dark

  When she comes home after a drink or three.

  When old Mother Beimlen goes out on the game

  And brings a client back

  On the landing she turns the electric off

  So when she shows him in it is pitch black.

  The crushing impact of the cities

  But those without hands

  Without air between them

  Had the force of pure ether

  In them was constantly

  The power of emptiness which is the greatest power

  They were called Short-of-Breath, Absence, No-Shape

  And they crushed as do mountains of granite

  Falling continuously out of the air

  Oh I saw faces

  Like renegade gravel

  In rapidly streaming water

  Very uniform, many gathered together

  Made a hole

  That was very large

  And for now I still speak only

  Of the strongest race

  Concerning the travails of the first period

  Suddenly

  Some flew into the air

  Building upwards, others from the highest rooftops

  Flung their hats up high and screamed

  Thus high the next

  But those coming after

  After the sale of the roof they were used to and fleeing the night frosts

  Pressed in their turn and saw with haddock eyes

  The tall dwellings

  Those coming after

  For at that time folded within the same walls

  In haste

  Four generations ate together

  Had never in their childhood year

  Seen on the palm of the hand the nail in the stone of the wall

  For them metal and stone

  Grew in to one another

  So brief was the time

  That between morning and evening

  There was no noon

  And already on the old familiar ground

  Stood mountains of concrete

  And we after so long a time . . .

  And we after so long a time snowed in

  Like sorrow itself having almost passed away

  If now there must be storms in the month of April

  Yet may heaven, for me, sometimes be tranquil

  Yet may the winds, for me, be calm occasionally

  Laugh, I beg you, here and at once, and love

  Time runs, time laughs and will not come again

  For breasts, throat, mouth and beautiful hair not yet

  Enjoyed enough: ask God in heaven

  For time and a few cold nights is all you’ll get

  Remembering a certain M.N.

  1

  Lasting as rubber

  As he is, so he’ll stay

  Whoever you are

  You’ll not bend him your way.

  But why not rum from a tumbler

  And why not the hundred percent

  In knowing the bitterest may there

  Perhaps not be some point?

  2

  Did you think her cheap?

  Did you say: cotton?

  But now, honest truth

  Was she your possession?

  3

  Did you lie on her bed?

  Your hand! False or true?

  I know on the corridor

  She did not recognize you.

  4

  You want to forget her?

  Tear up her photo.

  Then, yes, you’ll forget her.

  But never her words to you.

  5

  Say it was dark

  Say the dark was good

  Remember: it was ebb tide

  Forget: it was flood.

  6

  If you say you left her

  Swear you forgot her.

  Don’t say she was nothing

  Say you saw someone better.

  Oh why the rum from the tumbler

  And why also the hundred percent

  In knowing the bitterest, for sure

  There may perhaps be some point.

  Eight thousand poor people come before the city

  On the road from Salgótarján, outside Budapest, eight thousand unemployed miners with their wives and children are lying in the open fields. In the first two days of their struggle they had no food. They had scanty rags for clothing. They look like skeletons. They have vowed that if they get no bread and no work they will proceed to Budapest, even if it costs blood, for now they have nothing to lose. Around Budapest the militia are drawn up. They have strict orders to fire should there be the least disturbance.

  So we went down to the biggest city

  A thousand of us had not eaten

  A thousand of us were still hungry

  And a thousand of us wanted feeding.

  The General looked out of his window

  And said: You can’t stop here

  Don’t be awkward, go home quietly now

  You can write and tell me what your needs are.

  We stayed there standing on the highway

  Believed they’d come out and feed us

  But who came to see us? Nobody

  All we saw was the smoke from their houses.

  Said the General: You’re not allowed here so many

  And he began the tally.

  We said: As many as you see, that many

  Have had nothing to eat today.

  We built ourselves no shelter

  Washed none of the rags we wore

  We said: We can’t wait much longer.

  Said the General: That’s for sure.

  Said we: But we can’t all die.

  Said the General: How wrong you are!

  The townspeople heard gunfire

  They said: There’s fire out there.

  Oh, we had a ball back in Uganda . . .

  Oh, we had a ball back in Uganda

  Seven cents a chair on the veranda

  Oh, the poker games with that old tiger

  Oh, we played so wild for this and that

  When we bet the hide of Papa Krüger

  The old man saw and raised us with his hat.

  Oh, the moon shone down so peaceful in Uganda!

  We sat there as the daw
n had come and gone

  The breeze was but a gentle sigh

  And the game went on.

  It wasn’t everyone who had the cash to try

  A round of poker underneath that sky

  With a tiger in a suit and tie

  (Seven cents a chair on the veranda).

  Ballad of the faithless women

  1

  You want a woman, son, to say, ‘she’s mine’

  That’s never going to happen here of course

  Although you may not be an ugly swine

  And yet your cock looks like it’s off a horse

  There’s women who’d complain, kick up a fuss

  Don’t go for them: they’re really not worth much.

  2

  Lie to her, no one’s got a bigger cock

  And when you sit together, son, be canny

  Keep a firm grip on your axe, or else some jock

  Will stick a pillow underneath her fanny.

  There’s women who’d resist, shout out and such

  Don’t go for them: they’re really not worth much.

  3

  Stick a knife in the bedpost when you go to rest

  And don’t go out unless you really must

  And if you do, then take her too, that’s best

  Or else some other bloke will grab her breast.

  There’s women who’ll give in to any touch

  Don’t go for them: they’re really not worth much.

  4

  Don’t use her too hard—it’s no joke

  Or else you’ll sleep too deep, that can be bad

  If you’re too sleepy for a smoke

  She may run off to someone else’s pad.

  There’s women might respect your sleep, and watch

  Don’t go for them: they’re really not worth much.

  Money

  Don’t be afraid of the dollar, child.

  You should long for the dollar, child.

  (WEDEKIND)

  I don’t say, Work!—I won’t lead you astray—

  For human beings were not made to work.

  But money, see that money comes your way.

  Money is good. In the pursuit of money do not shirk.

  Man hunts his fellow man with snares.

  The wickedness of the world is great. Therefore

  Get money in your purse for there’s

  Nothing the wicked world loves more.

  Got money, they’ll cling on you as ticks do, tight:

  We’ll know you then like the light of the sun.

  Got none, your children must put you out of sight

  And say, We do not know the man.

  Got money, they look at you and know who’s boss.

  Got none, no one has heard of you.

  Money will buy your case the star witness.

  Money is truth. Got money, you’re a hero.

  What your woman tells you, you’d better believe it but

  Don’t go visiting her without money.

  Without money you lose her, you’re a have-not.

  Without money only dumb animals will keep you company.

  Man honours money. He extols money above God.

  If you want to make sure your enemy

  Won’t rest in peace under the sod

  Write this on his stone, Here lies Money.

  That is his lot, the man you loved . . .

  1

  That is his lot, the man you loved

  To lie in the night

  Of his burial

  In a thin rain

  And to complete the parting

  From his friends

  At the first supper.

  2

  How you designate

  The flat world! How else but with

  Vapid copies

  Of its ineffable vapidity.

  3

  Here I lie

  Of one mind with God.

  And if not of one mind?

  My life was

  Courageous.

  And if not courageous?

  The world is

  Sufficient.

  And if not sufficient?

  Matinee in Dresden

  1

  And they invited three gods

  To Alibi on the river Alibe

  And made a great promise

  Of one hundred and fifty hecatombs for each one of them

  And honour as much as they should require.

  2

  But when they arrived only the rain was there

  To welcome them.

  And when they came to the festival hall of the city of Alibi

  They heard a mighty noise from within.

  For a celebration was under way in honour of the great Alea.

  And they entered and saw their own chairs standing

  Where the coats were hung and rotten eggs were boiled.

  Then the divinities wept among these coats

  That the rain had welcomed.

  3

  But there came to them Sibillus, a man from the city

  Who had known them long and he comforted them:

  And went about to gather people of goodwill

  Who would honour the good divinities in Alibi, the city on the river Alibe.

  But he found nobody.

  4

  Said Sibillus, the man from the city of Alibi:

  Let us go now to the table of fat Alea

  Who is the world’s friend and there we may gather up the crumbs

  That fall from his rich table.

  And they went and came before these tables.

  But no crumbs fell there.

  5

  Then Sibillus lost heart and said to the three divinities:

  I beg you do not despair, do not for want of the honours due to you

  Throw yourselves into the river Alibe

  Lest the river burst its banks and

  Wash away our city of Alibi!

  Assertion

  1

  Be quiet.

  Which do you suppose changes more easily

  A stone or your opinion of it?

  I have always been the same.

  2

  What does a photograph amount to?

  A few grand words

  You can rightly ascribe to anyone?

  I have perhaps not got any better

  But

  I have always been the same.

  3

  You can say:

  In the past I ate more beef

  Or that on wrong roads

  I went faster.

  But the best unreasonableness is the sort

  That passes and

  I have always been the same.

  4

  What does a heavy rain weigh?

  A few thoughts more or less

  A few feelings or none

  Where all things are insufficient

  Nothing suffices.

  I have always been the same.

  Great men

  1

  Great men say a good deal that is dumb

  And dumb is what they think all people are

  And people say nothing and suffer them

  Hour after hour, year after year

  2

  But great men eat and great men drink

  And fill their bellies full

  And the other people hear about their deeds

  And eat and drink as well

  3

  For his very life Great Alexander

  Needed the city of Babylon

  And there have been other people

  Who didn’t and you are one

  4

  Great Copernicus handled a telescope

  That’s how his nights were spent

  He calculated: the earth goes round the sun

  And so he thought he’d understood the firmament

  5

  Great Bert Brecht did not understand the simplest things

  And the most difficult, for example grass, he thought long and hard about


  And he honoured great Napoleon

  Because, like him, he ate

  6

  Great men behave as though they were wise

  And talk very loud as the deaf do

  We should give great men due praise

  But believe them? No.

  The cities, the black-pox cities . . .

  The cities, the black-pox cities

  Are full to the brim with our kind

  And many a one among us

  For a meal will change his mind.

  In cities like this our fathers

  Fear for us day and night

  Among the men in black leathers

  Few will treat you right.

  The good man and blameless

  Can’t be compared with them

  Who speed off grinning and shameless

  On bikes away from him.

  When our Lord Jesus . . .

  When our Lord Jesus was born on earth

  His mother had a hard time giving birth.

  It came on sooner than she expected

  And they had no money for a hotel bed.

  Mary sat herself down on a stone

  And Joseph ran around after a loan

  But got no joy wherever he ran

  For who’ll lend money to a working man?

  But they found a farmer at the last minute

  And he had a stable and offered them it.

  That was the turning point. Strange to tell

  Everything after that went pretty well.

  A box made a table and the stable lad

  Smuggled in a fish for them. He had