You who will emerge again from the flood
In which we have gone under
Think
When you speak of our faults
Of the dark times
Which you have escaped
For we went, changing countries more often than our shoes
Through the wars of the classes, despairing
When there was injustice only, and no indignation.
And yet we know:
Hatred, even of meanness
Makes you ugly.
Anger, even at injustice.
Makes your voice hoarse. Oh, we
Who wanted to prepare the land for friendleiness
Could not ourselves be friendly.
You, however, when the time comes
When mankind is a helper unto mankind
Think on us
With forbearance
Bertolt Brecht’s To Those Born After (1939), translated by Tom Kuhn
Mark Carrigan 