Evil - Joan Baez

Evil - Joan Baez (琼·贝兹)
While the red spittle of the grape-shot
Whistles all day in the infinite blue sky:
While the battalions scarlet or green fly
By the King who jeers en masse into the pot:
While the terrible stupidity grinds and crushes
And makes a smoking heap of a thousand men:
Poor Dead In summer among the rushes
In your joy sacred Nature who created them
There's a God who laughs at altar-cloths
Of damask incense and great gold chalices:
Who dozes to Hosannas for lullaby
And wakes when mothers gathered in their grief
Weeping under their old black bonnets sigh
And yield Him the coin knotted in their handkerchief