Classic Poem

The rain is falling
steadily. Two by two,
a column of policemen marches
in the twilight. (Revolution!
Against our boots
strike,
flickering tongues!)
A company of soldiers
with machine-guns,
squad by squad, turns within a square
and marches down a street. (Revolution!
We are the greyhounds —
unleash us! —
to hunt these rabbits
out of the fields. Listen to me ,
my two wives,
I have killed a man!)
Workingmen troop down the stairs
and out into the rain;
hurrah!
Revolution! (The gentleness of the deer
will never persuade the tiger from his leap.
Strong as a million hands,
what Bastille or Kremlin withstands us
as we march, as we march?)
Who minds the rain now?
How bright the air is;
how warm to be alive!
No children
in the hallways;
the stores closed,
not a motor car;
except for the rain,
how quiet.
Revolution!
Hurry to the power-house;
let the water out of the
boilers! The wires of the lamps burn dimly,
the lights in the houses
are out. Tie the red flag to the chimney,
but do not go through the streets,
where the steel-helmets have woven nets
of barbed wire;
bring guns and machine-guns
through the sewer
to each beleaguered house;
and send couriers throughout the land.
Arise, arise, you workers!
Revolution!

Put on your helmets;
troopers, tighten the straps
under your chins;
strap on revolvers;
tighten your belts,
and mount your horses; mount!
Send bullets flying through the panes of glass —
windows, mirrors, pictures;
forward, trot!
I am Fey,
I am Prince Starhemberg;
behind me is The Empire —
the princes of Austria
and the captains of Germany,
armored tanks and armored aeroplanes,
fortresses and battleships;
before us only workingmen
unused to arms and glory!

The bones in his neck part as they hang him,
and the neck is elongated;
here is a new animal
for the zoo in which are
mermaid, centaur, sphynx, and Assyrian cherub —
the face human, like their faces,
but sorrowing for a multitude,
hands and feet dangling
out of sleeves and trousers become too short,
and the neck a giraffe's —
as the neck of one who looks away from the patch of grass at his feet
and feeds among clouds should be.

Tell of it you who sit in the little cafes,
drinking coffee and eating whipped cream
among the firecrackers of witticisms;
tell of it you who are free to gallop about on horseback
or to ride in automobiles, or walk in gardens,
who say, Do not speak of despondency —
or any ugliness;
" Wie herrlich leuchtet
Mir die Natur!
Wie glaenzt die Sonne,
Wie lacht die Flur! "

Karl Marx Hof, Engels Hof,
Liebknecht Hof, Matteotti Hof —
names cut in stone to ornament a house
as much as carving of leaves or fruit,
as any bust of saint and hero;
names pealing out a holiday among the ticking of clocks! —
speak your winged words, cannon;
shell with lies, radios,
the pleasant homes —
the houses built about courtyards
in which were
the noise of trees and of fountains,
the silence of statues and of flowers;
cry out, you fascists,
Athens must perish!
Long live Sparta!