Here’s a poem I translated in 1993 that was written by my great great
uncle who lived in Sweden, 1846-1931. I have mostly translated Swedish
songs and a few poems to be singable and as true to their meaning as
I can. This is the longest poem or song I have ever translated. It is about
fraud and a strong commentary on how peoples’ behavior will weather
through the ages. It was published in 2010 in the collection of poems,
On the Edge of Peace — Voices from the faith-Based Peace and Justice Community, by the Ecumenical Peace Institute, Berkeley, CA.
IN ONE HUNDRED YEARS
When truth is judged as slander,
The light is scorned and persecuted;
When courts of old prejudice descend and
Every friend is frightened and must hide.
Then on one thing alone I stand,
What does it matter to me in 100 years?
When authority stands and boldly mocks
The free and truthful, investigated report,
The interpreter receives the names of a few,
Their biggest news is made.
They boast and foolishly persist and carry on,
What will it matter in 100 years?
When the country’s good human dignity is forgotten
And from its prejudicial pedestal
The court delivers severe and crooked sentences,
Hating each righteous speech.
When I the condemned am reprimanded,
What difference to me in 100 years?
When spirited spokesmen wish to bind
In form an investigation, accomplishments and trust,
And in ignorance wrap up;
They constrain so they may rest.
If then I change my way for them,
What difference to me in 100 years?
If the truth must inflict punishment to be respected,
For equality to work well;
Enlightening as a wound causes one to reflect
On God equally as on the lowest servant.
If I on the weakest court of justice stand,
What difference will there be in 100 years?
When like a beast that preys and drags victoriously
With fire and sword around sea and land;
Triumphantly, treasure and power they seize for themselves,
With violence, fraud, murder and fire.
Today the war, strength may establish,
But will be condemned within 100 years.
When the people are enslaved; indulged
With wages as great as a soldier’s;
The country’s blood and marrow used up
At their slave work.
They awaken and return from this injustice
Perhaps travelling far, within 100 years.
Those who for their own profit pursue
Every struggle for the greatest good and right;
Who failures, mistakes and truth conceal
In life, their knowledge, difficulties, ways,
The historian’s judgment receives the people’s anger,
Defying fraud far into 100 years.
And then each heart that hardly moves on behalf
Of a brother’s hardships and needs,
Who hears no cries for mercy or help;
When the weak are judged, their support is none.
They have just enough for when they go,
They are not remembered for 100 years.
But those who fight for justice and truth,
And whom the human race hold in high esteem;
They suffer for the light and peace.
Their brightness is not blinded, they are not inclined to hate,
Though their struggle may receive hate and ill will.
They are worthy still in 100 years.
When he for whom his cleverness is praised
Which none have grasped to understand;
Each to their own advantage judges,
The fanatics holler.
The just struggles to stay calm,
His work doesn’t die out in 100 years.
The good does not die out in time,
Nor is the wicked totally gone.
Yet if among them in the fight,
The better more and more until the finish
Seizes the empire, captures the upper hand,
The good will be understood for 100 years.
Marilyn Jackson