German


In the asphalt City, I am at home. Right
from the first provided with every dying sacrament:
newspapers. And tobacco. And booze; mistrustful
and idle and – not discontent.

Poor old BB. Stanza 2.

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Oh the shark has pretty teeth dear
And he shows them pearly white
Just a jack-knife has Macheath dear
And he keeps it out of sight

When the shark bites with his teeth dear
Scarlet billows start to spread
Fancy gloves though wears Macheath dear
So there’s not a trace of red

On the side walk Sunday mornin’
Lies a body oozing life
Someone sneakin’ round the corner
Is that someone Mack the Knife (more…)

July 13th. Yesterday, after a game of chess, Brecht said: “If Korsch comes we shall have to work out a new game with him. A game in which the positions do not always remain the same; where the function of  the pieces changes if they have stood for a while on the same square: then they become either more effective or weaker. Like this, the game does not develop; it stays the same too long.

Quoted in Reflections by Walter Benjamin. Conversations with Brecht.

Note. Maybe what we do as we start out on a journey…

I hear that in New York
At the corner of 26th Street and Broadway
A man stands every evening during the winter months
And gets beds for the homeless there
By appealing to passers-by.

It won’t change the world
It won’t improve relations among men
It will not shorten the age of exploitation
But a few men have a bed for the night
For a night the wind is kept from them
The snow meant for them falls on the roadway.

Don’t put down the book on reading this, man.

A few people have a bed for the night
For a night the wind is kept from them
The snow meant for them falls on the roadway
But it won’t change the world
It won’t improve relations among men
It will not shorten the age of exploitation.

Translated by George Rapp

Don’t be downcast, soon the night will come,
When we can see the cool moon laughing in secret
Over the faint countryside,
And we rest, hand in hand.

Don’t be downcast, the time will soon come
When we can have rest. Our small crosses will stand
On the bright edge of the road together,
And rain fall, and snow fall,
And the winds come and go.

Windows pampered like princes always see
what on occasion deigns to trouble us:
the city that, time and again, where a shimmer
of sky strikes a feeling of floodtide, (more…)

Timeless sea breezes,
sea-wind of the night:
you come for no one;
if someone should wake,
he must be prepared
how to survive you. (more…)

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