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Mar 11
Radio Poem
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You, little box, held tightly
to me,
while escaping,
so that your delicate tubes do not break;
carried from house to house, from ship to train,
so that my enemies may continue communicating with me
on land and at sea
and even in my bed, to my pain;
the last thing I hear at night, the first thing when I awake,
recounting their many conquests and my cares,
promise me not to go silent all of a sudden,
unawares.

Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Holocaust, poem, radio, tubes, valves, transmission, communicate, communication, communicating, land, sea, bed, night, sleep, dawn, morning, awake, awakening, conquests, victories, triumphs, cares, losses, silence, silent
Written by
Michael R Burch  62/M/Nashville, Tennessee
(62/M/Nashville, Tennessee)   
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