Rudolf Gaiseb

While this song plays,

Let the people eat and drink;

For tomorrow they die.

This beautiful garden,

Its roses burn like fire.

Still, this heart, is stubborn to retire.

The broken, cry, and their tears run dry.

Let them look up; the sky hears every cry.

While this song plays,

I’ll write to free my burdened soul.

For he who thinks he has an interesting life

Must show everyone so they realise

They, too, have interesting lives.

The evening is warm under my coat.

Wine glasses glimmer inside their fingers.

The keys are light and longing,

And it smells like Christmas.

But I sit sublime.

For the night will end like any other,

And the melodies drop under the cover.

I will leave and walk past my lover,

And search for her again, all over.

O brave sea,

Under the sun’s hue of gold.

O cocky peacock dancing in your lovers’ eyes,

I, too, was a bold show-off, but I stopped.

For colourful suits are left behind

When curtains suddenly fall.

This song lasts for no one.

While this song plays,

While they keep an eye on God,

Let the people eat and drink,

For tomorrow they die.

Let them drink and dance and paint,

For even fine art is at its brink.

And what truth is there,

Except for the concealed and the distorted?

While this song plays,

Let the people eat and drink,

For tomorrow they die.

These little lives God gives,

And again, takes when He wills.

Let the people fearfully eat and drink,

For tomorrow they die.