Darmoděj [English translation]

Yesterday a man walked through the city

and he walked down the main road

Yesterday a man walked through the city

and I saw him from my window

He played a chorale on his flute

it had the sound of a bell

and all the grief was there

that beautiful, long tone

And that's when suddenly I knew

yes, that is him

that's him

I ran out into the streets

wearing just a nightgown

in between garbage around the transhcans

rats were playing catch

And in the warm beds

all the passions and hatreds

silently were squirming

all the domestic pictures

And i wanted the answer

to my questions

questions

Na ná-na na ná-na na

na ná-na na ná-na na

na-na na-na ná-ná

na ná-na na ná-na na

na-na na-na ná-ná

na ná-na na ná-na na

na-na na-na ná-ná

I caught up with that man

and seized him by his coat

the coat was made of snake skin

and it felt strangely cold

And he turned around

and his eyes were full of crows

and scars around his eyes

He has been stabbed all over

And that's when suddenly I knew

who was this man

this man

He was trembling with fear

when I walked up to him

and he had a flute in his mouth

made by Hieronymus Bosch

The Moon sat above the houses

like a teal on the water

like my conscience

when it vomits in the toilet

And that's when suddenly I knew

yes that's the Wastrel

my Wastrel

My Wastrel

the vagabond of Fate and of love

who walks through all the dreams

but avoids the daylight

My Wastrel, the beautiful evil

poison under his tongue

when he sells door-to-door

needles and dictionaries

Yesterday a man walked through the city

a door-to-door dealer

he walked, but he doesn't walk anymore

the sidewalk got splattered with blood

I took his flute

and it had the sound of a bell

and all the grief was there

that beautiful, long tone

And that's when suddenly I knew

yes- I am him

I am him

Your Wastrel

the vagabond of Fate and of love

who walks through all the dreams

but avoids the daylight

Your Wastrel, the beautiful evil

poison under my tongue

when I sell door-to-door

needles and dictionaries

Na ná-na na ná-na na

na-na na-na ná-ná

na ná-na na ná-na na

na-na na-na ná-ná

Your Wastrel

the vagabond of Fate and of love

who walks through all the dreams

but avoids the daylight