|Below, I've tried to translate this song into English, in a way...|
|It happens I mean that something rattles,|
like something got lost inside me.
A sound, not even loud
sometimes it rattles in a familiar way
so rare you don't understand at once.
You wake up, rub your eyes and look
at an image between Brueghel and Bosch,
nobody who worry about sirens,
'cause sound the "all clear" only half as much cost.
It smells of "Kristallnacht".
In the calm before the storm, what's this?
Who very quietly leaves the town?
Notables incognito scurry past,
officials are not happy to come down,
when the soul of the people always ready
in direction of boiling-point rages and screams
"Heil - Halali" and limitless hot roars for retribution - trembling with envy
in the "Kristallnacht".
But all they it bothers them, what is different,
go with the flow as it should be done,
they are for "gays are criminals!",
"Foreigners are leprosy",
need someone who seduce them.
No rescue from the cavalry,
Old Zorro does not care.
He only pisses a 'Z' in the snow
and is babbling before tumble down in negligenz:
"So what? - - - - - Kristallnacht!"
In the church with the Franz-Kafka-clock,
without hands, it's only with strokes,
a blind man in front of a deaf-mute reads Struwwelpeter
behind triple-locked door.
And the jailer with the keys
in earnest keeps himself as a genius,
because he pulverized loop-holes
and sold them against claustrophobia
Meanwhile, on the marketplace maybe,
today unmasked with a true face,
collects stones, grind the knife
to that already ratted,
rehearses the lynch mob for Doomsday.
And only moored slightly to load,
the galleys are already under steam
waiting at the port for slaves,
on the scrap from the unequal struggle
of the "Kristallnacht".
There, where Darwin suffer for everything
whether for expelling or torturing people,
there where power is behind money,
where to be strong is to be an apple of the eye,
disfigured by knuckling under and standing at attention.
Even where people blows hymns on the comb,
in barbaric greed for profit,
"Hosanna" and "Crucify him!" calls
if someone sees any advantage,
is daily "Kristallnacht".
I have a feeling, a sense malign,
something seems to slip my mind,
a sound barely heard, at times familiar, absurd,
Seldom seen, even then it disturbs
You would wake, rub your eyes and behold,
on a canvas between Brueghel and Bosch
Who’s going to pay for an alarm,
when a threat is only half of the cost?
It smells like Kristallnacht
In the calm before the storm, what’s goes down?
Stealthily leaving the town,
incognito, the big shots hurrying on,
can’t be seen to be a part of that throng
When the soul of the folk, on the rise,
boils with anger, flares up and cries:
"Heil - Halali" with unbounded rage,
calling for vengeance on those they despise
In the Kristallnacht
But for those upset by anything new,
they go with the flow, as they always do
for the gays are dissidents,
and immigrants a pestilence,
need someone to sweep them away
And the cavalry is not going to show,
no Zorro to give a hot damn
at most, he’d piss a ‘Z’ in the snow,
staggering, indifferent, his legend a sham:
“So what? Kristallnacht!”
In the church with the Kafkaesque clock,
missing hands just marks on the dial,
a blind man reads kids tales to a deaf man,
there, behind a triple-locked door
And the guard holding the key-chain,
he styles himself some kind of a djinn,
he makes powder from the exits,
hawking as a cure for the locked-in
In the Kristallnacht
Meanwhile, in the marketplace, perhaps,
unmasked, showing their true colors today,
collects stones, sharpening blades,
to use against those now betrayed,
the lynch-mob rehearses for a Judgement Day
Moored briefly, preparing to load,
galleys stand ready to sail,
in the harbour waiting on slaves,
on the trash from the one-sided fray
From the Kristallnacht
There, quoting Darwin, excuses they invent,
whenever people they expel or torment,
there, where money pulls strings,
where the strong are the world’s kings
Bowed under, standing meekly nearby,
left singing hymns to themselves, while
with a barbaric craving for profit,
“Hosanna” and "Crucify him!" cry,
anywhere there’s gain in it
Every day, Kristallnacht.