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By mutual fear
we have come in peace
to the end of the year.
Berries gleam
behind green thorns;
and between our smelly frontiers,
fires burn.
Since we began
three full generations of men ago
what has been done about our references
for the time when Christmas comes for us no more?
A dozen wars
count 50 million dead;
not adding on famine, and plague, and heartbreak.
It is enough to make
the unborn tremble in their wombs.
But do not pretend
that the origin of war is mysterious.
Cross-question those who repeat:
'Disaster is natural to man.'
When you see evil done, do not say:
'It is human nature,'
unless when good is done, you say:
'It is human nature.'
Why imagine
if a thing happens often, it is natural?
Rather
ask after its kind, and where it started.
And do not find
that you cannot be blamed for a thing;
but that you stand against it.
And if you hear:
'Why bother us with this?' Reply:
'Born with strong noses must cry stinking fish.'
Shun the household
where questions like these, embarrass ...
In the name of gentility
they ask you to button your lip
when faced by evil.
You will, in any case,
not be asked back.
Yet ask your questions, once.
It is little enough; but something; and
be sure they sleep less tight because you asked.
For the man who is small must think:
'Small acts of goodness are no benefit'---
and does not do them:
'Small acts of malice do no harm'---
and does not abstain from them.
Thus he can tell himself:
'The river moves the river on.'
Combing his hair each day, but not his heart.
Observe the acts of those who claim
to be above such things.
Notice the deeds of who insists
injustice bores her.
And
if you pray,
do not rest content with your prayers.
It is hard---I know.
Cold comfort---I know.
And if you came to me you would find
a man needing much forgiveness.
Indeed, I would like to change; to be wise.
And I have been told that wisdom consists
of avoiding strife.
To dig my own square inch till it bears
apples in March, is held to be wise.
'Be still,' such wisdom says, 'and when
your neighbour's beard goes up in flames
moisten your own. Make no attempt
to actualise your dreams; but call them vanity,
and lose your shame in compromise.'
Alas, I can do none of these things.
It cannot be said that I am wise.
Well over half our century is gone.
We were three generations
possessing opportunity and time
who were too much possessed by them.
Our inheritance contained
much that was wrong;
yet it cannot be said
we were born empty-handed.
Easily persuaded to slay each other,
among us those who profited from slaughter
lived in peace.
So we made tolerance a vice.
Infinitely careful of each self,
we stood for liars in public places;
and called it freedom,
because we did not have to hear them.
When you ask after us and find
weakness, falsehood, malice, pride,
and the complex excuses we made about them,
judge us---but with forbearance.
For if we did not seek out
the evil among us too carefully,
nor did we rest in peace.
Take what is best for keeps;
keep what was worst in mind;
for we who measured time by pain
never will return again;
and more than half our time is gone.
I wrote this song
for those who will be born
in the time we call New Year,
to be among you there,
even as you are here.
The song is given away
like a man's top-coat when he dies,
who knew it cost too much
for him not meant to last,
and knowing this would make
the same mistake again.
What peace can the living have
when the dead have none?
Agree among you.
Here we three are one.
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