New Ages

A new age does not begin all of a sudden.

My grandfather was already living in the new age

My grandson will probably still be living in the old one.

The new meat is eaten with the old forks.

It was not the first cars

Nor the tanks

It was not the airplanes over our roofs

Nor the bombers.

From new transmitters came the old stupidities.

Wisdom was passed on from mouth to mouth.

Sacco and Vanzetti

Oh say there, have you heard the news

Sacco worked at trimming shoes

Vanzetti was a traveling man

Pushed his cart round with his hands

Two good men's a long time gone

Sacco and Vanzetti are gone

Two good men's a long time gone

Left me here to sing this song

Sacco came from across the sea

Somewhere over Italy

Vanzetti born of parents fine

Drank the best Italian wine

Sacco was a family man

Sacco's wife three children had

Vanzetti was a dreaming man

A book was always in his hand

Sacco made his bread and butter

Being the factory's best shoe-cutter

Vanzetti worked both day and night

Taught the people how to fight

I'll tell you if you ask me

About the payroll robbery

Two clerks were shot in the shoe factory

There in the streets of old Braintree

I'll tell you the prosecutors' names

Katman, Adams, Williams, Kane

Them and the judge were the best of friends

Did more tricks than circus clowns

The judge he told his friends around

"Gonna put them rebels down"

"Anarchist bastards" was the name

The judge he gave these two fine men

Vanzetti docked in '98

Slept upon a dirty street

Taught the people how to organize

Now in the electric chair he dies

All us people ough to be

Like Sacco and Vanzetti

Every day find ways to fight

On the people side for workers' rights

                                                                - Song by Woody Guthrie and David Rovics 

                                               

Horizon

The sky, it’s said, came down to meet the earth, 

And so, it’s said, Horizon came to birth. 

This son of Earth and Sky I swore to find: 

I ran... he ran... and left me far behind.

Ah well, I thought, this rascal’s hard to catch, 

But one fine day he’s going to find his match.

I see now how he slips from place to place, 

From ridge to farther ridge as I pursue; 

So I must spare no pains and speed my pace, 

And, if I fail, begin the chase anew.

I’ll leave my mark in that Horizon-land, 

Cut down those ever-beckoning skyline trees, 

And tame his beasts to eat out of my hand.... 

But ever to new boundaries he flies.

On foot, I find, I cannot match his speed; 

I saddle up and mount a doughty steed; 

Horizon treats this challenge with disdain.... 

From horse to car I change, but still in vain. 

From car to plane—and in the sky I vow 

This son of Sky will not escape me now!

But in the air the situation changes: 

Where is the skyline to these mountain ranges?

Beneath my eyes in swift succession flowing 

Are forests, lakes, fields ready for the sowing. 

A wealth of scenes for me to feast my eyes on. 

But where, oh where’s this runaway horizon?

However fast I run or ride or fly, 

Your swift retreat keeps pace with my advance; 

Whatever speed I set or trick I try, 

You still keep leading me a merry dance....

Horizon, you have gone without a trace. 

Perhaps you never had a real existence. 

But one good thing I brought back from the chase— 

A lesson in endurance and persistence.

My friends and I, exploring far and wide, 

Keep opening new horizons, rich and real, 

And when we hear of any paths untried, 

Again we’ll show our courage and our zeal.

Despite all losses, bitter though they are, 

We’ll bring them nearer, goals that are still far!

Translated by Archie Johnstone

                                                        MIKHAIL SVETLOV

The Fool

A horse should be feared from the tail-end, my friend: 

From the fore-end—the cow and the bull. 

But— 

    from all points of view, 

          from beginning to end, 

Beware, beware of the fool!

Whenever a fool is installed in the place 

Intended by right for the wise 

The fool’s true identity promptly to trace 

Is hard for the keenest of eyes.

For sometimes a fool may be glib and polite, 

Not at all an inveterate brute. 

The fool may be able to speak and to write 

Or to be quite impressively mute.

One fool single-handed can muddle, my friend, 

So much in a moment’s course 

That ten hundred men will be helpless to mend 

By wisdom, patience or force.

But here we may mention a general rule 

To be followed by wise men hereafter: 

Though there’s plentiful reasons to fear a fool, 

Remember: a fool fears laughter!

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg

SERGEI MIKHALKOV 

After Passing By

After Passing By

The children watch

a distant point.

Lamps go out.

Some blind girls

question the moon

and spirals of grief

rise in the air.

The mountains survey

a distant point.

Federico Garcia Lorca