Auf der Straße der Vergessenheit

We always want to look forward,
so we rush towards the new day.
However, the path of life we walk on,
also leads to yesterday on winding roads.
I'm looking for a small piece of the past -
on the street of oblivion.

A final chord of proud anthems,
a silent word from Charlie Chaplin.
Caracciola's fame, his victor's wreath,
Fred Astaire's final dance.
The smirk of the Captain of Köpenick,
Marlene Dietrich's seductive gaze.
Caruso's voice, Tarzan's yell,
disappeared with the wind and gone.
A torn rope from the Zeppelin,
the last 'Sieg Heil' from the Reich Party Rally.

Crowns proudly worn yesterday,
turn to dust, crumble, and shatter.
Silent witnesses of transience
on the street of oblivion.

In fifty years, someone may walk by,
thinking back to today and seeking forgotten things again.
They will then see our dreams lying,
the grand words and the loud songs.
What counts today will be the past
on the street of oblivion.

Michael Jackson's 'Moonwalk,' Naomi's legs
and there, the first stones from Mars.
A piece of the Wall, Berlin greets,
scandal at Windsor, a song by Queen.
A piece of bread for the world in a frozen hand,
the dream of Europe that still emerged.
A racket from Boris, Lothar's last shoe,
a black account from the CDU.
My audience, who sang and shouted,
'But please with cream,' 'Merci Chérie'...

Glory and fame we pray to today,
turn to dust, forgotten and trampled -
silent witnesses of transience
on the street of oblivion.