The children

By
You do not know our times,
Only know that somewhere far away
A war is being fought,
You make wood into swords and shields and spears
And play-fight happily in the garden,
Put up some tents,
Wear white bandages with the Red Cross sign.
And if my dearest wish has any power,
War for you will
Always remain only a vague legend:
Never standing in battle
Never dying
Never fleeing a house destroyed by fire.

But you will still be warriors
And you will all know,
That your experience of sweet breath,
That your dear possession of a heartbeat
Are only on loan, and that through your blood
Runs the past, the heir you’re expecting
And the far-off future,
And that for each of the hairs on your head
A fight, a pain, a death has been endured.
And you will know, that the nobility
In your mind is always a warrior,
Even when it’s unarmed,
That each day an enemy,
That each day a fight and a fate are waiting.
So, don’t forget!
Remember the blood, slaughter and destruction,
On which your future is resting,
How the smallest happiness is built
On death and sacrifice.

Then your own life will become more lit up 
Even as you are embracing death more closely.

Den Kindern
Hermann Hesse, November 1914

Comments

E.V. said…
Lots to unpack here
July 7, 2020 at 9:37 AM
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