The daily worker., 1926-08-21
The Trumpet


the bench over there.
l not to call you "comrade'; you are no
damned Red; are respectable ctzen?"
It seems to me- your back is bent like mine, your
hands are hard and worn like mne out Of your face
speak hunger and misery out of mine Haven't
you slaved away entire life abored that others
could reve suffered want, so that others could ca
rouse? You nodded. Then aren't we comrades mates? ?
Hasn't the mother, Distress given birth to us?
The prison Of misery confined us? Are We not
dying of common poverty alone deserted here in
the hospital? And l am not to call you ecomrade"?
Wen WELL let's not talk about it; don't want to
provoke you How gloriously the shines! l feel
so light and joyous today. believe it's because 1
have dreamed of my little trumpet
You think oughtn't to speak so much, it harms my
throat? The few months that l still have to live it
will last all right, Move up little Closer so that
can talk very softly l must talk more before
1 am silent forever
You ask what it has to do with my little trumpet? I?
That long story is really the story of my life
AS little lad, had, for a long time, wished for
small trumpet My God, how 1 wished for it! To
blow out the world once just out of pure JOY with
voice which all, all must hear
AT Christmas mother presented me with a small tin
trumpet. How laboriousy she must have scraped to-
gether her pennies, the poor soul. charwoman
not afford to grant her child JOY without paying for
it with her suffering. l blissful; how the
trumpet glittered 1 took it out of my mouth so
could view it BETTER and quickly put it between my
lips, because l longed to hear its sound l felt as if
the entire world belonged to me.
The next holiday, my mother went to clean gentle
mans rooms. l along, for it bitter cold in
home and there, at the gentleman's, it all
ways and comfortable
waited in the ante-room mother enjoined me not
to blow the trumpet the gentleman couldn't bear
amy noise, / sat demurely in corner, fOndled the
gAttering trumpet, glad about the warmth and
was very happy. Then, however, the wish came to
me to put the trumpet in my mouth. don't want
to blow it, you know, merely feel the trumpet
between my lips, to experience the queerdeightfu
taste of tin.
scarcely dared to breathe. Suddenly however 1
don't know how it happened shrin sound pierced the
air.
An angry voice shouted from the adjacent
"Quiet What's that abominable noise?"
was frightened, that began to tremble Grad
ualy, however defiance took possession of me- Abom-
inable noise" My beautiful beautiful trumpet I put
it to my lips drew deep breath and blew with all my
strength into the opening
The door of the torn open; red with
anger, the gentleman dashed out the trumpet
of my hand and broke it.
My breathing stopped, the whole world seemed to
fall in ruins. The gentleman disappeared Crying 1
put the trumpet to my mouth, tried to blow: not
single wee sound.
The gentleman, clad in a magnificent fur stepped
into the ante-rOom again, walked past me and out
thru the door.
got up softly, sped into the room from which the
gentleman had come. / saw many splendid things
thru tears pictures and pillows and sparkling objects.
My blood grew hot: "The man has everything every
thing; but had only small trumpet and he has
broken it,"
did not get another The broken trumpet lay home
the window SILL and at times the glitter
ing metal, which no longer carried any within.
We starved and froze for years. l went to the
factory-you know yourself what that means-grey,
weary mornings, which merge into grey weary eve
nngs ones fuh of noise ones eyes full ugli-
ness, the body eaten up with exhaustion.
Then suddenly my view opened out into a bright
world, world in which will be the pack ami
mails of others, in which there will be freedom bread
and joy, sufficient for all. / became a socialist
Whenever ! looked upon the comrades in the fac
tory their dull hopelessness, their tired resignation