Ben Brecht “Sonnets to the Critics In Rebuttal”

 

 

Good critics who reject my fairest song
And spatter my fine shirt with printer’s ink
I’d bellow bitterly you do me wrong
Were I not suffocated by your stink.
Imperfect am I, full of faults, I know;
And when I sing, a shade off key at times—
As who is not who rashly tries to blow
A pean from his lungs; but all my crimes
Ar amiable when matched beside tyour own—
You theatre moles with inattetive ears,
A cough and now and then a kidney stone,
Abristle with your dull but fearsome spears—
Who come to drama not to drink or sup
But more to shine your little egos up.

 

 

January 28, 1942

 

 

 

bertolt brecht, Journals (1938-1955)

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tuesday june 13 2017

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