Mario Cutajar

FINLAND 1940

I
We are now refugees in
Finland.

My little daughter
Returns home in the evening complaining that no child
Will play with her. She is a German, and comes
From a nation of gangsters.

When I exchange loud words during a discussion
I am told to be quiet. The people here do not like
Loud words from someone
Who comes from a nation of gangsters.

When I remind my little daughter
That the Germans are a nation of gangsters
She is glad with me that they are not loved
And we laugh together.

II
I, who am descended from peasants
Detest seeing
Bread thrown away.
You can understand
How I hate their war.

III
Over a bottle of wine
Our Finnish friend described to us
How the war laid waste her cherry orchard.
The wine we are drinking comes from it, she said.
We emptied our glasses
In memory of the ravaged cherry orchard
And to reason.

IV
This is the year which people will talk about
This is the year which people will be silent about.

The old see the young die.
The foolish see the wise die.

The earth no longer produces, it devours.
The sky hurls down no rain, only iron.