The Wailing Walls

“Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,

And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

He knew human folly like the back of his hand,

And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;

When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,

And when he cried the little children died in the streets.” 

                          (EPITAPH ON A TYRANT, W.H.AUDEN)

I

Seven thousand were standing

By the city of iron pillars

Waiting to be killed.

Stone walls and florid gardens

Do not sigh.

The great king of the great earth

Was ordering for warm blood;

In lines they came,

In lines they departed.

Graveyards they did not need.

Pigeons stopped to see on stone terraces;

Some were stoned,

Some fell down to the mud.

The king laughed and asked

his men to crack a joke.

All failed and he laughed even more!

The city was dull;

The houses were empty;

The cellars were infested with rats

And the churches had Christ in them.

No wailing in the streets,

Only laughter at the palace.

II

I shall rise and destroy

The scum of this dying world;

I shall wash the tears of childless mothers

I shall wash the clayey idols to dust.

I shall throttle the men-with-knives

I shall riddle with bullets the killer's head

I shall strangle the corrupt to death.

Kill the king,

Kill his men

Choke his throat.

Burn the idols,

Remove the priests,

Feed the beggars,

Bring peace.

Douse the flames,

Find the children,

Dry the tears.

Jump into the false river

Taking false oaths

About your false love

Of your false life.

Slit your wrist

Slit others' throats

And bleed

On mad streets

On cursed September nights.

Let the world live.