Текст песни Spiorad na Cogadh - Фуга смерти

I am the moisture of the roots we drink it at night
we drink it at noon and in the morning we drink it at night
we dig a grave in the sky there is no crowding
A man lives in that house, he tames a kite, he writes
Your hair is Gretchen gold
he writes coming down the stars light up
he calls dogs by a whistle

The black moisture of the origins we drink you at night
we drink you in the morning and at noon
we drink you at night
A man lives in that house, he tames a kite, he writes
Your hair is Gretchen gold
Your hair ashes Rachel
we dig a grave in the sky there is no crowding

The black moisture of the origins we drink you at night
we drink you at noon and in the morning
we drink you at night
In that house a man of your hair lives Gretchen gold
your hair ashes Rachel
death is an old maestro
cries violinists sadder
and soar bolder
there are graves in the sky ready there is no crowding
The black moisture of the origins we drink you at night
we drink you death it's an old maestro
eyes bluer than heaven
in that house a man of your hair lives gold Gretchen
he brings his pack down on us
he gives us a grave in the sky
he tames a kite dreaming
and death is an old maestro

your hair is Gretchen gold
your hair ashes Rachel

Paul Celan. Text taken from Majdanek Waltz