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The Scythians

Millions are you – and hosts, yea hosts, are we,
And we shall fight if war you want, take heed.
Yes, we are Scythians – leafs of the Asian tree,
Our slanted eyes are bright aglow with greed.
 
Ages for you, for us the briefest space,
We raised the shield up as your humble lieges
To shelter you, the European race
From the Mongolians’ savage raid and sieges.
 
Ages, yea ages, did your forges’ thunder
Drown even avalanches’ roar.
Quakes rent Messina and Lisbon asunder –
To you this was a distant tale – no more.
 
Eastwards you cast your eyes for many hundred years,
Greedy for our precious stones and ore,
And longing for the time when with a leer
You’d yell an order and the guns would roar.
 
This time is now. Woe beats its wings
And every adds more humiliation
Until the day arrives which brings
An end to placid life in utter spoliation.
 
You, the old world, now rushing to perdition,
Yet strolling languidly to lethal brinks,
Yours is the ancient Oedipean mission
To seek to solve the riddles of a sphinx.
 
The sphinx is Russia, sad and yet elated,
Stained with dark blood, with grief prostrate,
For you with longing she has looked and waited,
Replete with ardent love and ardent hate.
 
Yet how will ever you perceive
That, as we love, as lovingly we yearn,
Our love is neither comfort nor relief
But like a fire will destroy and burn.
 
We love cold figures’ hot illumination,
The gift of supernatural vision,
We like the Gallic wit’s mordant sensation
And dark Teutonic indecision.
 
We know it all: in Paris hell’s dark street,
In Venice bright and sunlit colonnades,
The lemon blossoms’ scent so heavy, yet so sweet,
And in Cologne a shadowy arcade.
 
We love the flavour and the smell of meat,
The slaughterhouses’ pungent reek.
Why blame us then if in the heat
Of our embrace your bones begin to creak.
 
We saddle horses wild and shy,
As in the fields so playfully they swerve.
Though they be stubborn, yet we press their thigh
Until they willingly and meekly serve.
 
Join us! From horror and from strife
Turn to the peace of our embrace.
There is still time. Keep in its sheath your knife.
Comrades, we will be brothers to your race.
 
Say no – and we are none the worse.
We, too, can utter pledges that are vain.
But ages, ages will you bear the curse
Of our sons’ distant offspring racked with pain.
 
Our forests’ dark depths shall we open wide
To you, the men of Europe’s comely race,
And unmoved shall we stand aside,
An ugly grin on our Asian face.
 
Advance, advance to Ural’s crest,
We offer you a battleground so neat
Where your machines of steel in serried ranks abreast
With the Mongolian savage horde will meet.
 
But we shall keep aloof from strife,
No longer be your shield from hostile arrow,
We shall just watch the mortal strife
With our slanting eyes so cold and narrow.
 
Unmoved shall we remain when Hunnish forces
The corpses’ pockets rake for plunder,
Set town afire, to altars tie their horses,
Burn our white brothers’ bodies torn asunder.
 
To the old world goes out our last appeal:
To work and peace invite our warming fires.
Come to our hearth, join our festive meal.
Called by the strings of our Barbarian lyres.
 


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01.02.2025

Doctor Faust





Oh, Doctor Faust
Behind you, do you see all these years you've spent wasting your life?
It's time for you to let yourself live life
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
Diving like this into dead languages, that's not life
If you spend time with them, living languages will revive you
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
Science is a well where you drown yourself, if you want my opinion
Descend into the well of pleasure because that's life
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
Leave your Talmudic and astrologic studies behind
Instead, prepare a thesis on my anatomy
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
Throw your books away, forget Latin, smile at live
In my arms, you'll get to know love and life
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
I like your physique, leave physics behind, discover life
Looking together, in physical love, the meaning of life
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
 

Oh, Doctor Faust
I like your physique, leave physics behind, discover life
Looking together, in physical love, the meaning of life
 


01.02.2025

On board of the Aspasia





You traveled in pursuit of your destiny
To white but mournful Switzerland
Always in the deck in a chez-lung downstairs
by the familiar and saddest cause
 

Always restlessly your folks have been prowling around
But you, staring at the wings, were indifferent
You laughed bitterly at what they said because you felt
That you were travelling to the land of death
 

One night when we were passing through Stroboli
You said to some laughing man in a joking tone:
'How my sick body looks as it burns,
to the flaming top of the volcano!'
 

Then I saw you in Marcilia as you were lost
in the noise without turning back
And I who loved only the wet expanse,
I say I could love thee
 


01.02.2025

Gramophonomaniac





In room of miss Janka
winders and curtains tremble
Like in a fury there a gramophone plays
Because miss Janka is a gramophone maniac
From morning to morning constantly plays.
Syrena’s records are still brought by miss Janka,
She puts all of her money in it and continues to sing
 

And I play on gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me - I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have my all concerns
 

Neighbours of miss Janka, their wives and lovers declared, not being able to sleep at night:
We have enough of miss Janka,
that gramophone maniac,
the police needs to know about it
But when the officer came, miss Janka says
What to do, man, understand I’m afraid to sleep alone
 

And when I play on the gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me then I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have all of my concerns
 

As soon as the strict officer heard it himself and wanted to give advice to the poor maiden
He says to miss Janka, that gramophone maniac
„A pity, I will sleep here”
And since then every night from miss Janka’s room
The bas of officer makes the curtains tremble
 

And I play on gramophone
trali tralalla la, trali
tralalla la
In winter at home, in the summer on the balcony
trali tralalla la, gramophone plays
And nothing worries me,
I have Syrena’s records
When something annoys me - I play on the gramophone
Because when I play on the gramophone
then in gramophone I have my all concerns
 


singable
01.02.2025

At the End of the Park





When sunset
makes the sky grow pale,
from the window,
I look around me.
 

At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
 

I watch you from afar and
in your hand,
there's
hidden more than one caress.
 

At the end of the park, I see you
running towards me,
of course,
I know it.
 

It's only an impression,
a trick of my heart
that makes me see
all this.
 

Tenderness
is something that
grows deep
in the soul.
 

If I remember
and if only
I think about you:
 

At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
 

I watch you from afar and
in your hand,
there's
hidden more than one caress.
 

At the end of the park, I see you
running towards me
and this time,
I know it.
 

You're no longer an impression,
a trick of my heart,
I've found
you again.
 

(At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.)
 

At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me
like one evening
a year ago.
 

At the end of the park, I see you
searching for me...