Classic Poem

Nights of mine, you good sisters of the imprisoned,
The stillness becomes filled with your trembling sounds
Lying on the hard bench I listen attentively—
I hear your heart-throbs, brothers, you
From here and there … from there and here …
Imprisoned in the jails of all continents,
In Atlanta and in Memphis, in Calumet and Barcelona, in Calcutta—and in Mayland—
You, brothers, we in the struggle and rebellion, in strikes and revolts—
Accept my greeting, you brothers, we.

They wish to forbid you the world and the world is your wishing!

And to you my greeting:
You brothers in the prisons of Africa and Asia,
In the jails of Australia:
You dark, yellow, brown protectors of your own piece of land,
That is devoured and oppressed by Europe's tender fist.
To you my greeting, you brothers in the jails,
In the prisons of the whole world.
To you,
Who in your homes' dire need brought you up,
Whom in your own house the longing has broken down,
And who from sleep have drawn forgetfulness—
You, who were made thieves, robbers, sluggers, murderers
Made—made!
You, who are brothers of mine by the same fate—accept my greeting.

I listen and I think:
Who could say about himself that he isn't imprisoned—
Though no jail has forestalled his heaven,
And no building has robbed him of earth?
And I hear your heart-throbs, brother, you
From here and there … from there and here …

Oh, would that I could hear
With the eternal great love of a dreamed-about God—
The heart I would hear—
The united great heart
Of both human sexes,
Of all stars, all animals,
Of fields, flowers and stones—
The throbbing of the great heart
Of everything, everything