English poem
Another Citizen
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
On Sundays, holidays, there’s naught I take delight in, Like gossiping of war, and war’s array, When down in Turkey, far away, The foreign people are a-fighting. One at the window sits, with glass and friends, And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding: And blesses then, as home he wends At night, our times of peace abiding.