The Curse of the Great

Das ist der fluch der mächtigen

Let us settle with swords

The affairs of men:

Violence is the answer:

ŤSis im blutť... Eisblut!

In this soiled world

We see aspects of damnation

On the faces of the killed

Instead of gratitude

This psychology may seem

A bit baroque at first

But what a boon it be

When the demons come

With time and telling, memory dulls

Of rotting boys with empty skulls:

All sons of ares, sons of mars

Whose flesh be worms, whose souls be stars

Myriads of combat corpses

The eggshell skeletons of men

Debris over which weep

Their stricken families:

Parents, wives and children

Their heroic children

Their heroic sufferings

Do strengthen hearts

And moisten eyes

Know ye not (Have ye forgotten?)

Your place in the earth?

We know (as we've always known)

(that) there can be no place

For such as ye

Upon our blameless, benighted earth

The breath of the dead

Fills the stagnant breeze:

Now, the world is perfect

(and) those left behind still weep

(And) should the question of terror arise

We'll draw our hate down from the skies

We live beneath a carcass moon

That makes a horror of all days

For on this battlefield

Even the wicked get worse than they deserve

ŤBut then, it is the curse of the great

To have to walk over the corpses.ť

ŤEs war schon immer der fluch der mächtigen

Über leichen schreiten zu müssen.ť

With our deeds of carnage

We hail bloodshed our immortal king