Dialogue

— Tell me, Teacher, what is love,
When skin is flayed off with a whip?
When sinless infants are laid
On altars with a laurel branch?

Or could it be the love of a thief,
Who takes the very last thing you own?
And how to trust the judges of law,
Who have sold their voice and soul?

— Love does not scream, it is patient,
It issues no ultimatums and does not threaten,
It only waits and understands everything,
We just lack a little warmth…

— Warmth? And a measure of faith?.. Perhaps…
No, no! I do not believe this will be the only end!
Only those who are stronger have the rights,
While we are invariably turned into slaves!

— You see everything in a somewhat different light,
Forgive them their offenses and open your heart.
From now on, there will be neither grief nor pain —
Only you and the universal happiness of love!

Cast aside all worries, accept my hand!
And I will pass all the paths on to you.
Thus God commanded us on the tablets —
And we must only fulfill what we have been given!

— How can we, and do we even have the right,
To deny the reality of the ongoing war?
Where is the love and his grace there,
In which mortar? How is one to understand this?

We crave peace, while killing others,
And thereby creating a cycle of our own
Syncopes, constantly growing through the ages…
Where is the final point? In the years to come?..

— Stop! But this is only your own postulate!
You think only: "I do not accept!" — you are wrong.
Your accusation of the world is merely pain,
An open wound — that is your own lot.


Более адаптивный вариант перевода.
(A Student and His Teacher)

STUDENT:
Tell me, Teacher, what is love —
When flesh is torn by whips above?
When sinless infants, pure and small,
On altar stones are made to fall?

Or is it what a thief calls true,
Who steals the last remains from you?
How can we trust the judges' laws
Who've sold their souls for their applause?

TEACHER:
Love does not scream, nor does it threat,
It knows to wait, to not forget.
It sets no terms, it makes no demands,
It only waits — and understands.
We have everything, but one thing lacks:
A little warmth… and perhaps that cracks.

STUDENT:
Warmth? And a pinch of faith?.. Maybe…
No, no! I won't accept that we
Are meant to bow, to kneel, to serve,
While stronger ones get what they deserve!
If this is love, then love's a lie —
We're slaves beneath a painted sky!

TEACHER:
You see the world through wounded eyes,
Forgive them, child — let your heart rise.
From this day forth, no grief, no pain —
Just you and love's eternal reign.

Cast off your burdens, take my hand,
And I will show you what is planned.
Thus God inscribed on stone above —
And we are but to serve and love.

STUDENT:
But how, dear Teacher, can we trust,
When war machines turn men to dust?
Where is His grace? In which gun's shell?
In which burnt home? In which farewell?

We beg for peace, yet kill our brothers,
And birth the same pain in others.
A cycle turning through the years —
Where is the end? Through blood and tears?

TEACHER:
Enough! This pain is your own thought,
A cage your grieving heart has wrought.
Your rage at life, your bitter cry —
Is but an open wound. Let it dry.