If they have a Sputnik and our side has none,

And this be the measure, which method has won,

Let him who counts this a great blow to his pride

Pack up and join hands with the opposite side.

May those who insist that this life is a race,

To beat all the others in conquering space,

Be free and unhampered to do of their best;

But why, for their purpose, should they tax the rest?

Why is it that everyone must play the game

By rule of that tyrant — majority aim?

If man can’t be trusted to master his fate,

What magic can save him as slave to the State?

Some persons have chosen as their highest goal,

A search for the meaning within each man’s soul;

And constantly strive so to live and to move,

Themselves to control — thus, the world to improve.

Not all men insist upon showing their might,

Among us are some who prefer to do right.

And each, in the network of human events,

Must follow his pathway to its consequence.