There is a bird,
that sailors have crowned to be the ruler;
he flies around the earth
from the south pole to the north.
No goal is too far:
The albatross knows no boundaries.
He sails with dignity,
wanders through the air, as if he were a god.
He follows their ships
on the high seas, through cliffs, intoxicating his flight:
He seeks their way through the sea.
And the storms are crashing with brute force
on the oceans, so far,
then he flies with fire and rises tremendously
to the freedom of the seas.
But when he is caught
in arm-heavy slings with malice and cunning,
then the wings break;
it mourns, the sea, that misses the ruler:
Being trapped means death to him.
The slaves of the earth,
mocked and hurt, they shared his fate,
when he was tied up,
Bleeding on the shore, his flight is broken:
The albatross was their symbol.
But the vastness calls him, the endless power,
then he storms out into the open with boundless strength;
he swings his wings, blows up locks and bolts
the shackles and chains.
And when the walls pile up
and grab him, from clouds like lead;
and when lightnings hit him,
he fights the obstacle with his wings.
He also finds his way in a hurricane