Bertolt Brecht

“MARCH OF THE CALVES”

Following the drum
The calves trot
The skin for the drum
They deliver themselves.
The butcher calls. The eyes tightly closed
The calf marches on with calmly assured step.
The calves, whose blood has already been shed in the slaughterhouse
In spirit they march along in their ranks.

They lift their hands
And show them around
They are already stained with blood
And are still empty.
The butcher calls. The eyes tightly closed
The calf marches on with calmly assured step.
The calves, whose blood has already been shed in the slaughterhouse
In spirit they march along in their ranks.

They carry a cross ahead
On bloody crimson flags
That has for the poor man
A great hook.
The butcher calls. The eyes tightly closed
The calf marches on with calmly assured step.
The calves, whose blood has already been shed in the slaughterhouse
In spirit they march along in their ranks.