براي آيندگان -To the Coming Generations از برتولت برشت

با انتخاب دکتر یاوریان به عنوان مربی خود:

قایق بادبانی زندگی خود را در تلاطم امواج روزگار با لذت و اطمینان تا ساحل آرامش مطلوب به پیش برانید.

برای آیندگان

To the Coming Generations

Truly, I live in dark times!

The innocuous word is fatuous. A smooth brow

Denotes insensitivity. If someone is laughing

It only means, that he hasn’Äôt yet

Heard the dreadful news.

با انتخاب دکتر یاوریان به عنوان مربی خود:

قایق بادبانی زندگی خود را در تلاطم امواج روزگار با لذت و اطمینان تا ساحل آرامش مطلوب به پیش برانید.

What sort of times are these, when

To talk about trees is almost a crime,

Because it is simultaneously silence about so many atrocities!

Someone placidly crossing the street

Is certainly not available for his friend

Who is in need?

It is true: I do earn my living.

But believe me: that is the merest accident. Nothing

That I do gives me the right, to be stuffing myself full.

I have been spared by accident. (If my luck runs out, I’Äôm finished.)

They say to me: eat and drink! Be happy that you have!

But how can I eat and drink, when

Every bite that I eat is ripped from the mouth of a starving man, and

My glass of water is being denied to one dying of thirst?

And yet I eat, and I drink.

I would love to be wise as well.

You can find what is wise in the old books:

To hold yourself aloof from the strife of the world, and to spend

Your brief time without fear;

Also, to get by without violence,

To repay evil with good,

To relinquish desires, rather than fulfilling them,

These are all considered wise.

Of all this I am incapable:

Truly, I live in dark times!

I came to the cities in the Age of Disorder

When hunger was rampant.

I came among mankind in the Age of Turmoil

And I railed against it.

That is how my days were spent

That were given to me on earth.

I ate my food between battles

I lied down to sleep among the murderers

I attended diffidently to love

And looked upon nature with impatience.

That is how my days were spent

That were given to me on earth.

In my day, the streets led to the swamp.

My language betrayed me to the butcher.

There was little I could do. But the powerful

Sat more comfortably without me, so I hoped.

That is how my days were spent

That were given to me on earth.

The forces were weak. The goal

Was distant, remote.

It was plainly visible, even if I

Could never reach it.

That is how my days were spent

That were given to me on earth.

III

You, who will spring up from the flood

In which we have drowned

Think,

When you speak of our shortcomings,

Also of the dark times

That you have been spared.

We, who had to change countries more often

Than our shoes, walked in despair amid the class struggle,

When we saw only injustice, but no indignation.

And yet we do know:

Even hatred of baseness

Contorts the features.

Even wrath against injustice

Makes the voice hoarse. Ah, we

Who wanted to prepare the ground for friendship

Were ourselves unable to be friendly.

But you, if the world has come so far

That each person is now a helper to his fellows

Think of us

With forbearance.

(Bertolt Brecht)

امروز فقط حرفهای احمقانه بی خطرند
گره بر ابرو نداشتن، از بی احساسی خبر می دهد،
و آنکه می خندد، هنوز خبر هولناک را نشنیده است.

این چه زمانه ایست که
حرف زدن از درختان عین جنایت است
وقتی از این همه تباهی چیزی نگفته باشیم!
کسی که آرام به راه خود می رود گناهکار است
زیرا دوستانی که در تنگنا هستند
دیگر به او دسترس ندارند.
…

در دوران آشوب به شهرها آمدم
زمانی که گرسنگی بیداد می کرد.
در زمان شورش به میان مردم آمدم
و به همراهشان فریاد زدم….
عمری که مرا داده شده بود
بر زمین چنین گذشت.

خوراکم را میان معرکه ها خوردم
خوابم را کنار مرده ها خفتم
عشق را بهایی ندادم
و از طبیعت بی صبرانه گذشتم
عمری که مرا داده شده بود
بر زمین چنین گذشت.
…

آهای آیندگان، شما که از دل گردابی بیرون می جهید
که ما را بلعیده است.
وقتی از ضعفهای ما حرف می زنید
از زمانه سخت ما هم چیزی بگویید.

به یاد آورید که ما بیش از کفشهامان کشور عوض کردیم.
و نومیدانه میدانهای جنگ طبقاتی را پشت سر گذاشتیم،
آنجا که ستم بود و اعتراضی نبود.

این را خوب می دانیم:
حتی نفرت از حقارت نیز
آدم را سنگدل می کند.
حتی خشم بر نابرابری هم
صدا را خشن می کند.
آخ، ما که خواستیم زمین را برای مهربانی مهیا کنیم
خود نتوانستیم مهربان باشیم.

اما شما وقتی به روزی رسیدید
که انسان یاور انسان بود
درباره ما
با رأفت داوری کنید!

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