To Friends by Tatiana Pahlen

I know of course; it simply luck
That I’ve survived so many friends.
But last night in the dream
I heard these friends say of me:
“Survival of the fittest”
And I hated myself.

Bertolt Brecht, 1942

To Friends
By Tatiana Pahlen

My friends,
I long for you again!
I lost you one-by-one, leaving my Motherland.
My poor country was reformed but still looks counterfeit.
Unable to inspire enthusiasm of desire
to rejoin the new obscure clan.
I, too, have been transformed since living in New York,
where imitation of life devours body and spirit.
One learns faster if one foolishly wants.
Who's looking for work, may find some, indeed.
Shunning drugs becomes a thankless task
if from illusions you're speeding away,
your thoughts — keen jackals are trailing behind;
the higher you spin,
the higher the price of pain, along with disclosure ––
your brain was cruelly raped — that overwhelms you days later.
I buried many friends, who chose another stage
for struggle or success, or seek any other sense.
I should turn this page –– my eyes are full of tears.
I long for you, beloved friends!
Why was I blessed, not you?