17.03.2025
Our World is Beautiful (Villagers' Reprise)
From the highest point in the sky (To the end of the mines)
Where is the spark? (That illuminates us)
What did it look like?
If only we knew
If only this kingdom
Would become beautiful again
Thees Uhlmann - Junkies und Scientologen versuri traducere în engleză
English/German
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Junkies and scientologists
Click to see the original lyrics (German)For the junkies on methadone on their giant mountain bikes
For the preacher from Mönckeberg street who wildly yells at the sky
For the scientology guys with their way too friendly face
For all who want to forget, but know that forget, they will not
For the yakuza t-shirt wearers with Amstaff trainer pants
'La Familia' (tattooed) on the arm, a rose in hand
For the tired nurses smoking out in front of the lung clinic
And in reality would need a nurse for themselves tonight
For the chimney sweeper who is unlucky and fell off the roof
For the handicapped people at the concert in the town park by Adel Tawil
For the happiness in your eyes and my clapping out of rhythm
For all that one is and against the general fancy
For my small broken church and the quadrinity1 of Bobs
Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, Bob Andrews, and Bob Ross
For the butcher who covertly kisses a vegetarian at night
And says: 'If you wouldn't exist, I would have missed you'
But the future is unwritten
The future is so beautifully vacant
And I come to visit you
No matter if (at) Stammheim or German Chancellery
For the girl in the Ramones shirt, 'What's your favourite song?'
She said: 'In the past 'Sniff Some Glue' and later 'Pet Cemetery''
For the dealer in Görli2, with whom I drank beer cans in the playground
Who said: 'I also have a daughter in Ghana and her mother is sick'
For the fans of the HSV from the village that ride to home games in a Bulli3
I would so like to be with you, a mixed drink in hand
For the last of the punks and the last of the mods
For the evenings that last till dawn in front of the old Molotow
For the misogynistic writers that steal the air to breathe from others
If I would be a pen in your hand, I would be ashamed
For those, who try, and for those who do not make it
To keep their fingers away from the things that are bad for them
For everyone who polishes Stolpersteine4 in their street
For every day that doesn't take itself so seriously, during which just nothing happens
For the tramps with millions, for the rich ones without a penny
And for my unbroken incomprehension about the world
But the future is unwritten
The future is so beautifully vacant
And I come to visit you
No matter if (at) Stammheim or German Chancellery
For Emil Elektrohler and for Birgit, his wife
They live in the house that forgets nothing, and there I also live
For the people that think there is only one god
For my ex, but my wife is called Rainer Ott
For Photo-Ingo and Tanja, for Stagge and for Hu
And only so you get upset also for Bono and U2
For FCSP5, DTH6, and DVL
And for my unbroken incomprehension about the world
But the future is unwritten
The future is so beautifully vacant
And I come to visit you
No matter if (at) Stammheim
And no matter what happens
All things will find their way
Because the future is unwritten
And with all the crap in between
I will still visit you
- 1. Adapted from trinity
- 2. Nickname for Görlitzer Park in Berlin
- 3. German name for a Volkswagen Type 2
- 4. Small concrete cube with brass plate inscribed with the name and life dates of victims of Nazi extermination or persecution
- 5. FC St. Pauli?
- 6. Die Toten Hosen?
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From the highest point in the sky (To the end of the mines)
Where is the spark? (That illuminates us)
What did it look like?
If only we knew
If only this kingdom
Would become beautiful again
17.03.2025
Rain
Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
You slept, crying, swallowing blood
When the dawn was seen on the horizon
I never complaint about fate
Even if it turned my morning into evening
With this evening, it brought
My heart that was left away
Little by little, it rained
My heart shattered into little pieces
When it became morning againi
'Do you love me?' - I asked
You never asked for anything
You admired my eyebrows and eyes a thousand times
Stroking your black hair,
I lost myself this night
Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
Where do you go, swallowing blood?
Where would the dawn lead me?
17.03.2025
Sawah Lettuces
Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
Without looking, she grabbed a bunch and left
The sawah lettuces has now been brought back home
In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
The girl's mother bought some while carrying a woven basket
The sawah lettuces are now ready to be cooked
Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
With two plates of rice and nasnaran, sitting on a divan
The sawah lettuce is eaten with rice
17.03.2025
The Little Bunch of Rushes
O maiden of the finest rushes1
What a pity for you that my bundle has come undone
Would you come with me, just the two of us
Under the bank of the wood with the brightest flowers
No priest would ever hear of it
Nor any living soul
Until the birds start to talk in human language
And the blackbird starts speaking Greek.
I’ve no stockings nor shoes
Not even a stool to sit down on
I haven't a penny in the whole wide world
Unless Jesus Christ should take pity on me
My trousers are threadbare
And as you know, my blanket is worn out
Yet still there are plenty of women in the taverns
Who chase after me just for the price of a drink
Oh, did you think to entice me, young man
With your flattery? Well, it did you no good
There’s many a sensible girl
Carrying a load who has been led astray
But I myself would rather carry heavy loads
And drag them till the day I die
Than have your child on my knee
Asking for news of you when you're nowhere to be found
- 1. Rushes are a kind of grass-like plant used to make floor coverings and furniture, traditionally collected by young women. The motif of gathering rushes often has sexual connotation in folk songs of the British Isles and Ireland in both English and Irish. This song is no exception.