Paul Celan: Todesfugue: For the Weekend

Paul Celan: Todesfugue: "Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening

we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night

we drink and we drink

we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped...

...A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes

he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Marguerite

he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling

he whistles his hounds to come close

he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground

he orders us strike up and play for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening

we drink and we drink

A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes

he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margeurite

your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped

He shouts jab this earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play

he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are blue

jab your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening

we drink and we drink

a man lives in the house your golden hair Margeurite

your ashen hair Shulamith he plays with his vipers

He shouts play death more sweetly Death is a master from Germany

he shouts scrape your strings darker you'll rise then in smoke to the sky

you'll have a grave then in the clouds there you won't lie too cramped

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night

we drink you at midday Death is a master from Germany

we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink

Death is a master from German his eye it is blue

he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true

a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete

he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air

he plays with his vipers and daydreams

Death is a master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete

your ashen hair Shulamith

Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt

der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete

er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine R��den herbei

er pfeift seine Juden hervor l����t schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde

er befiehlt uns spielt auf nun zum Tanz

#fortheweekend #fascism