Ｐｏｅｍｓ ｆｒｏｍ Ｇｅｎｅｖａ

A Three-legged Chair in Geneva*

Standing high， it keeps you in a constant worry

Lest it should fall instantly or turn over any time

Though the hills and lake are as charming as a dream

Yet on its sight， you seem to view a warning of danger

It’s always vacant， there’s nobody on its seat

With no support around， it often sways in storm

But isn’t it just a symbol of the fate of humanity?

Does the world today witness an hour of tranquility?

We are all， in fact， seated on a dangerous chair

Whether it be New York， or cottages in Africa

Don’t let greed and hatred grow unbridled

If the chair falls， won’t all in all come to ruins?

Think it over， we hurry and scurry day and night

When shall we the three-legged chair put to right?

*On the square leading to the United Nations Building in Geneva， there is a sculpture in the shape of a three-legged chair， symbolizing turmoil in the world， and calling for concern and endeavour from the people of all nations.

The Lion Monument*

With the head of a broken spear in its left rib

A dying lion painfully lies in a large grotto

Its cross shield and weapon already cast aside

Its eyes half shut， its head pillowing on its mane

Its companions died fighting in battlefields of other lands

In the suburbs of Paris， in front of the Tuileries Palace**

Or， to defend homeland and blue sky of other peoples

They shed blood on the barren mountains of the Alps

Is it a shame to serve as mercenaries because of poverty?

Can it be deemed as an honor to fight bravely out of loyalty?

The lion is groaning and shedding tears， in behalf of a nation

Now， its own household is rated as one of the richest

But still with a broken spear in its body， it lies among flowers

Beside a pond of clear water， and inside the soul of a nation

*In the past， because of poverty， Switzerland exported mercenaries (guardsmen) to various European countries; and they mostly died fighting on battlefields of those countries. In 1821 The Lion Monument was erected in their memory in the Glacier Garden of Lucerne， in the shape of a lion with a broken spear in its body.

**On August 10， 1792， to protect the French king Louis 16th， 786 Swiss guardsmen all died fighting in the French palace.

A Linden Tree in Fribourg*

That courier with a linden sprig on his hat fell down and died

When， running all the way fast， he arrived at Fribourg

And when he shouted loudly， “We’ve won the victory!”

Yet that linden sprig is still alive， growing on his tomb

I”ve come to the small town to look for that linden tree

And I see it standing straight and luxuriant on civic centre

And the town with castle and church as beautiful as a painting

And a swift river like waterfall flowing into a deep ravine

I then turn to the church square， and see military training**

Soldiers carrying guns and knapsacks are all assembled

And an ancient bronze cannon is roaring in autumn rain

Only by a martial spirit can neutrality and peace be maintained

After five hundred years， that linden tree is still living

Young soldiers set out again to run over green hills and valleys

*This story took place on July 22， 1476 during a battle between the Swiss and French armies.

**In order to honor the memory of this courier who died gloriously， Switzerland holds long-distance running competition in every September in five places of the country， of which the competition in Fribourg is on the largest scale.