Rome - The Secret Germany (For Paul Celan) | Текст песни

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• Rome
• The Secret Germany (For Paul Celan)

How slowly it changed your mirth into
moan. How slowly estranged you from
the girth of home. You were no friend
to your king, you faithful few. A few last
wolves will have to do.

O, what care for all of your dreams. It’s the
sweetest memory. To have seen you fall to
your knees. For your Secret Germany.

How slowly you threw him off you
throne. How thoroughly sealed the
books of Rome. The trap was laid to
recover what was lost. Now holy thy
name and holy thy thrust.

Wer retter uns den frieden wenn nicht wir selbst?


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