Again, A Meeting
Again a meeting, noisy, dying,
raised to vote,
is there no sob of sentiment
in your throat
a charming deal
to dismember friends
on the wheel?
What kind of minority
Only two hands,
only two hands.
A minority has courage,
the majority reeks.
They are not Bolsheviks,
They are not soldiers
You, my friends,
are silent with reason.
But cowardly silence
also is treason.
Oh, majority, majority,
creators and victims of fraud,
so many times you’ve
you have no right
to be our god.
The non-ruling minority
has no authority.
On so many cowards I see
an invisible life vest.
But how powerless is the dishonest assent
of the majority.
And how powerful is
minority’s honest protest.
Translated by Albert C. Todd with the author
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