The Secret Germany (For Paul Celan) - Rome

How slowly it changed your mirth into moan

How slowly estranged you form girth of home

You were no friend to your king, you faithful few

A few last wolves will have to do

O, what care for all of our dreams

It’s the sweetest memory

To have seen you fall to your knees

For your Secret Germany

How slowly you threw him off your throne

How thoroughly sealed the books of Rome

The trap was laid to recover what was lost

Now holy thy name and holy thy thrust

Wer rettet uns den Frieden wenn nicht wir selbst?