By the way: Is anyone no idiot who lives on this planet?
Wenn man in der Politik das Mitgefühl verliert, vergißt,
dann taugt die ganze Politik nichts.
Konstantin Wecker
If you lose compassion in politics, if you forget,
then the whole policy is no good.
Translation:
The old czar stands in the garden and casts shadows.
The moon floods him. The czar is dreaming:
Rats flocked into the gilded palaces,
and wild horses were harnessed in the halls.
They rode the dead, and a muffled wailing
tore the earth apart, and the czar fled
and cries up to the moon: I must have you.
And hopes for one who will pull him up to heaven.
Sleep, czar, sleep,
for tomorrow they will come.
You have taken far too much
of their lives.
The old czar stands in the garden and grows older
and is frightened and raises his hand in confusion.
The imperial nights grow colder,
a harsh breath overtakes the land.
They are already forging swords on the horizon,
the splendour of the prosperous times has faded.
The czar senses that he has been more coveted before,
and digs a hole in the air.
Sleep, czar, sleep,
for tomorrow they will come.
You have taken far too much
of their lives.
The old czar stands in the garden for the last time.
A few more hours and the emperor is gone.
He drops his arms, which are far too tender,
and scents and surrenders to danger.
The tears of the palaces become seas.
Even the rats flee with the night.
And with the new sun, proud armies storm
the old time and wrestle for power.
Die, czar, die,
for today they will come.
You have just taken far too much
of their lives.