Spring 1938 – Bertolt Brecht

Image
Today, Easter Sunday morning,
A sudden snow storm swept over the island.
Between the greening hedges, lay snow.
My young son drew me to a little apricot tree by the
house wall,
Away from a verse in which I pointed the finger at
those
Who were preparing a war which
Could well wipe out the continent, this island, my
people, my family
And myself. In silence,
We put a sack
Over the freezing tree.

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