The Bishop and The Priest, The Teacher,
these were the Grey Gods of the Grey Fifties
Even the Politician and the Merchant
had to pay Respect, to gain Respect.
Knowledge was broadcast at us
Like seed scattered on an empty field.
We were told the answers to the questions
we didn’t dare to ask.
Then the men in hornrim glasses spoke.
With no mention of God the new
black and white God spoke in every livingroom.
It told us what we ought to know,
it opened doors and shone light in the shadows
where the grey sins lay hidden by the Grey Gods.
We thought we were seeing.
The new Grey God lives among the stars.
In glorious colour it speaks,
it tells the news, it makes the news,
it tells us what it is we ought to know.
A black and white view in colour.
The old Grey Gods look on, green with envy.
The strings they pulled were never as long,
strong or well played as this brash messenger.
This full colour God in the sky.
We still think we’re thinking.
Nothing changes but the colour.
(“Broadcast” was originally an adjective and adverb, and meant literally “scattered widely”, particularly in the farming context of sowing seeds.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem