The daily worker., 1926-08-21
BY HERMYNIA ZUR MUEHLEN.
TRANSLATED by A. Landy)


when wanted to express them, dead, empty words
came, toneess soundess out of my little trumpet
when the gentleman had broken it.
had learned nothing, / knew nothing.
Nor could l learn anything. My poverty condemned
me to eternal ignorance
And is it not strange, comrade? On my way to the
factory, went past schools, the university; there, in
those buildings, knowledge for which 1 onged, lay
stored and could not attain it. Others could en-
ter, could receive the gift of knowledge l. however,
had to hasten by, to the machine.
My body was weak but my spirit fresh and
active quick Of comprehension.
Those who had taken everything from me- thing,
however, they had been able take; take from
me the power of my brain But it lay fallow; the only
thing possessed lay falow because the others, who
had everything, rendered my single possession worth
less.
did want to let myself be conquered; learned
read nights the fckering candle, devour-
ed the new, the longed-for knowledge.
And now when spoke to the comrades, word did,
at times, penetrate to them, prcked them awake with
la fine needle point roared in their ears; suddenly ami
mated eyes answered me.
At meeting, my tongue loosed itself completely
cried Distress misery the suffered injustice
out into the world; showed the comrades the life of
the Others that life of joy and beauty which is built
upon dead lives felt if my rang shrek
ing thru the entire world called to battle like the
crash of trumpes. to the one, Just, sacred battle
Great, blissful joy completely filled me- mine the
instrument with which herald freedom; my poverty
and my misery, my love and my hate have built it;
those who have robbed of everything could rob
me of this.
Many, many years ago a small boy had a small
shabby trumpet A wretched little happiness which
the rich gentleman broke for him.
The enslaved worker the packanimal of the rich,
had his love and his knowledge certainly acquired
it just painfully my mother her pennies for
the little trumpe-he had voice with which he could
herald truth and iustce-and the gentleman who pos
sesses everything broke it for him.
had spoken all too loudly, the sound of my words
had penetrated too far, had called echo into life.
This could not be allowed 1 thrown into prison.
When 1 out again. sickness sat in throat and
ate my voice. The words lay ready in my mouth but
could only out hoarse rafting and incomprehens
ible
That which burned and blazed within me had be-
come mute like the tin trumpet into which the little
boy had blown in vain; and for the the entire
world fell in ruins it had fallen in ruins for
the child.
You don't understand me anymore, should not
speak on? still want tell you my dream, comrade,
then I'll be silent.
Last night my little trumpet extended hand to me
and a voice spoke: "Blow into it," /, however sadly
refused II ana repn6d. is Inen VOICE
answered.: Endless misery and unutterabe tortures
have restored to the mute instrument its sound the
injustice which weighs upon the world is great that
muteness itself has found voice and cries out to the
skies Take the trumpet and blow" Doubling, obey
ed placed the trumpet my mouth and blew into it.
| "A sound resounded overwhelming, powerful
that 1 almost frightened. All the wretchedness
of the ensaved all the lamentations Of the tortured all
the despair of the world shrieked out screamed
ed penetrated stone walls and prison barriers whipped
dead hearts and benupbed souls into life l thought of
the trumpet blasts of the Last Judgment and knew
that the World Judgment is approaching but not
hidden God from bssfUh heights is calling the world
before his Judgment chair the judges We the op-
pressed, the dsnherted the robbed we, the people of
the whole world h.t reH q
| Let us go into the house, comrade The is not
shining any more. ann cold and have grown tired
f.art rt~'st1 hs s.aa
/