If they would listen to me, their troubles would flee,
but my words are bubbles to my children,
who hear only the willful drone
of their own voices beating the air to gain
the ears of their own deaf children, in vain!
Despairing, I turn my head—
there stands my father—he has been speaking to me—
seeking with eyes that burn parental concern
to catch my ear by word!
What has he said? (I have not heard!)
Thus clangs the chain of the human will—word-studded—
an instrument of hate—linking together
the generations, with sound prolongations
that make earth shake,
but with no communications!
Can we not break this chain, for mankind's sake?
Let us be humble, O God, Father-Mother!
Help us speak less and listen more!
Help us break through the earthquake's roar
to hear Thy voice—small and still—
to do Thy will!
In so loving Thee, we shall love one another
and rule out this muffling hate—
we shall communicate!
