Klaus Eberhardinger

I like Austrian Drama Pop. Here is my own translation into English. Klaus Eberhardinger has a peerless presence. Erste Allgemeine Verunsicherung`s staged song may be viewed here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBMnkVXq1iE

`Death`

It's Twelve in the night
Outside a storm's going,
the death-bells knell.
Once again - someone's off into the Grave

Death is a fair man -
be you rich or poor.
"Dead is dead,"
says the worm.
Once a corpse, we're all alike.

You can be lazy your life long
- or busy as hell -
Five days after Death's got you,
Everybody starts to rot all soft.

Given what I can sense
about the ol' Scythe-father,
I can hear this shriek outside
to make alkylene freeze in my veins:

"Every one of you,
"Every one!"

Black coat, swarthen hat -
A scary figure!
He's got a scythe
and an egg-timer!

Slowly he comes closer,
clops on the door
- I smell a whiff of mold
as he says to me,

REFRAIN:
"Greetings - I am Death!
Gone is your distress.
Come, your time is up,
Get movin and no fuss
It's me - the godfather!"

I tell the old father
"Come in, come closer!
but scythes I won't need to buy
-- I got my own lawnmower !!
You must be awfully hungry
-- you're nothing but bones.
Shall I make you hot spiked tea,
or boil you some soup?"

He drinks a tea down,
then the next - the whole way to X
- he throws it down his ribs.
But he only burns his teeth -
He's no lips, you see.

But then he grips his egg-timer -
My hair goes up stiff to heaven!
He taps me on my shoulder --
and introduces himself again!

***"Greetings - I am Death!
Your distress is over.
Come, your time is up,
Get movin and no fuss
It's me - the ol' godfather!"

He whets his scythe:
"Before I mow you down,
bring me another, one final Jager Tea."

But after the fifth cup
the gaffer loosens up!
He rattles his bones and mounts the barn stool:

"Every one of you!
E-e-e-e-e-e-vry Man!"

"Listen now, you're mistaken!
My name's not Everyman !
you need to go to Salzburg -
That's where Death's at home!"

I go with him to the station - had to carry him right to the train!
I buy him another ticket and set him in the dining car.

The train rolls away - I'm wallking on air!
I wave him off from behind.
He sways there with his scythe
and says to the cart porter:

"Greetings,
I am Death!
Your distress is over.
Come, brother, come,
Bring me quick a Jager Tea, but with loads of rum!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jagertee: 'hunter's tea' - black tea with rum

Home in the Family Hotel

I had a dream this morning I stayed with my parents in a hotel overloaded in tea-rooms. We were in Britain. Our lodgings led onto a `theatre-room` where two walls had tall windows facing the grass, the hills sloping down toward the room. Their drapes opened and closed like stage curtains, revealing performances on the hillside. I pulled back the drapes on one window and saw a choir of seven singing ladies in long green, purple and red robes. They sang this song, which sounded in my ears as I woke: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlrOe0CTCXE

 ...

No great distance may prove assistance
from my mind your love to move -

-`My heart is with you altogether
Though I live not where I love.`                 

... 

In the second half of the dream, still in Britain, I was married to my `mother`, who'd inexplicably turned into a 2-meter tall German blonde with wide hips and thighs. We continued lodging in the theatre-room hotel. Our room had a see-through glass wall with German tourists piled onto a sofa on the other side of it. Many of them were students. Wandering the adjacent campus, I found a flyer-handout (termed `flandout`) detailing how to help Germans missing their mobiles. It instructed them to phone one of four telephone numbers written in huge characters on a uni building. I carefully copied down the numbers to my `flandout` just as a German boy, phone-less and forlorn, approached me for help. I proudly and compassionately handed him the info.

Fire Is Hotter Than Blood

37° F/3° C. Chewed on life on the porch with my brother. Puffed, sipped and mingled thoughts with my brother. Frozen toes, warm counsel. A smoke arose. A secret congress. A consort howl. A breath of half-forgotten strength vented from below, or from above. The vagabond wolf, separated from the pack, finds the warmest hearth. What is kinship when its bonds die away? Friendship remains: The guide to turf, to den, to country, to money, to mate, to feast – to every spoiled dream.