From 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 conscientious man get nowhere
And so I tired the crooked path instead
But crookedness makes our sort travel slower.
There seems to be no way to get ahead.
Likewise I say: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll
Blow away.
The niece:
The old, they say, find little fun in hoping.
Time’s what they need, and time begins to press.
But for the young, they say, the gates are open.
They open, so they say, on nothingness.
And I too say: drop it!
Like smoke twisting grey
Into ever colder coldness you’ll
Blow away.