Das ist der fluch der machtigen
|
|
Let us settle with swords
|
The affairs of men:
|
Violence is the answer:
|
Sis im blut... 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
|
|
But then, it is the curse of the great
|
To have to walk over the corpses.
|
Es war schon immer der fluch der machtigen
|
Uber leichen schreiten zu mussen.
|
|
With our deeds of carnage
|
We hail bloodshed our immortal king
|
|
-----------------
|
The Curse Of The Great
|
| Cryptopsy |
