Sep 6
The Good and the Gods by Bertolt BrechtFrom the Interlude of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
Song of the Defencelessness of the Good and the Gods
Shen Teh:
In our country
The capable man needs luck. Only
If he has mighty backers
Can he prove his capacity.
The good
Have no means of helping themselves and the gods are
powerless.
So why can’t the gods launch a great operation …
moreSep 6
City at Dawn by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene Four of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
Shen Teh, to the audience : I had never seen the city at dawn. These were the hours when I used to lie with my filthy blanket over my head, terrified to wake up. Today I mixed with the newsboys, with the men who were washing down the streets, with the ox-carts bringing fresh vegetables in from …
moreSep 4
Airmen Not Wanted by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene Three of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
It starts raining.
Shen Teh: What’s that rope for? You’re not to do it!
Sun: Mind you’re own business! And get out of the way!
Shen Teh: It’s raining.
Sun: Don’t you try sheltering under my tree.
Shen Teh remains motionless in the rain : No.
Sun: Why not give up, …
moreSep 4
Song of the Smoke by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene One of “The Good Person of Szechwan” - John Willet translation
The Grandfather:
Once I believed intelligence would aid me I was an optimist when I was younger
Now that I’m old I see it hasn’t paid me: How can intelligence compete with hunger?
And so I said: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll Blow away.
The man:
I saw the …
moreSep 3
A Poem about Yan'anBeside the Yellow River, on the bank of the waters of the Yan,
is the yellow earth plateau. Before the yaodong caves the millstone grinds,
it seems a return to yesterday.
I’m going to Yan’an,
to see the soft passing of time,
to see thousands of hills, everywhere red.Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more
Sep 6
City at Dawn by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene Four of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
Shen Teh, to the audience : I had never seen the city at dawn. These were the hours when I used to lie with my filthy blanket over my head, terrified to wake up. Today I mixed with the newsboys, with the men who were washing down the streets, with the ox-carts bringing fresh vegetables in from …
moreSep 4
Airmen Not Wanted by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene Three of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
It starts raining.
Shen Teh: What’s that rope for? You’re not to do it!
Sun: Mind you’re own business! And get out of the way!
Shen Teh: It’s raining.
Sun: Don’t you try sheltering under my tree.
Shen Teh remains motionless in the rain : No.
Sun: Why not give up, …
moreSep 4
Song of the Smoke by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene One of “The Good Person of Szechwan” - John Willet translation
The Grandfather:
Once I believed intelligence would aid me I was an optimist when I was younger
Now that I’m old I see it hasn’t paid me: How can intelligence compete with hunger?
And so I said: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll Blow away.
The man:
I saw the …
moreSep 3
A Poem about Yan'anBeside the Yellow River, on the bank of the waters of the Yan,
is the yellow earth plateau. Before the yaodong caves the millstone grinds,
it seems a return to yesterday.
I’m going to Yan’an,
to see the soft passing of time,
to see thousands of hills, everywhere red.Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more
Sep 4
Airmen Not Wanted by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene Three of “The Good Person of Szechwan” by Bertolt Brecht - John Willet Translation.
It starts raining.
Shen Teh: What’s that rope for? You’re not to do it!
Sun: Mind you’re own business! And get out of the way!
Shen Teh: It’s raining.
Sun: Don’t you try sheltering under my tree.
Shen Teh remains motionless in the rain : No.
Sun: Why not give up, …
moreSep 4
Song of the Smoke by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene One of “The Good Person of Szechwan” - John Willet translation
The Grandfather:
Once I believed intelligence would aid me I was an optimist when I was younger
Now that I’m old I see it hasn’t paid me: How can intelligence compete with hunger?
And so I said: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll Blow away.
The man:
I saw the …
moreSep 3
A Poem about Yan'anBeside the Yellow River, on the bank of the waters of the Yan,
is the yellow earth plateau. Before the yaodong caves the millstone grinds,
it seems a return to yesterday.
I’m going to Yan’an,
to see the soft passing of time,
to see thousands of hills, everywhere red.Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more
Sep 4
Song of the Smoke by Bertolt BrechtFrom Scene One of “The Good Person of Szechwan” - John Willet translation
The Grandfather:
Once I believed intelligence would aid me I was an optimist when I was younger
Now that I’m old I see it hasn’t paid me: How can intelligence compete with hunger?
And so I said: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll Blow away.
The man:
I saw the …
moreSep 3
A Poem about Yan'anBeside the Yellow River, on the bank of the waters of the Yan,
is the yellow earth plateau. Before the yaodong caves the millstone grinds,
it seems a return to yesterday.
I’m going to Yan’an,
to see the soft passing of time,
to see thousands of hills, everywhere red.Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more
Sep 3
A Poem about Yan'anBeside the Yellow River, on the bank of the waters of the Yan,
is the yellow earth plateau. Before the yaodong caves the millstone grinds,
it seems a return to yesterday.
I’m going to Yan’an,
to see the soft passing of time,
to see thousands of hills, everywhere red.Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
Sep 1
A Worker Reads History by Bertolt BrechtWho built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima’s houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
more0001
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more
Jan 1
Modernities Morrow What is that trechorous term, whos weight we cannot inherit, whos pressure sustains and dissolves us at it’s beckoning. Perhaps such is the feeling of one embedded in the fabric of a time unknown to itself, yet so perfectly sure of it’s necessity. How does one speak of a self-reflective epoch, when modernity wipes all previous memories into a thin glassy veneer? To …
more
more