On the Term of Exile

No need to drive a nail into the wall

To hang your hat on;

When you come in, just drop it on the chair

No guest has sat on.

Don’t worry about watering the flowers—

In fact, don’t plant them.

You will have gone back home before they bloom,

And who will want them?

If mastering the language is too hard,

Only be patient;

The telegram imploring your return

Won’t need translation.

Remember, when the ceiling sheds itself

In flakes of plaster,
The wall that keeps you out is crumbling too,
As fast or faster.

Bertolt Brecht

Translated from the German by Adam Kirsch

(Picture: Untitled, Zdislav Beksinski)