Deutschland, Deutschland

Deutschland, Deutschland, how has it come to this,
That thoughts of your dense forests cast me into a deep nostalgia?
As I push through the fog of the Czech Republic,
Unstoppable, advancing into your leaf- and needle-clad woods,
The last rays of the year pierce the clouded sky,
Dancing between branches that sway in the wind.
And so, your sight appears to me,
As something utterly new!

Saxony! In the East still lies the true Germany,
The true Europe!
The one Stefan Zweig once called the World of Yesterday,
The one that rises proudly,
Proclaiming its values to the world,
The one that, like a spear reaching into the heavens,
Guards the resting place of Western culture.

And now, arriving at the family home,
Your nostalgia overwhelms me completely.
The ideal image of the traditional family—
The woman with child, the hearth, the home—
An illusion I can never fully become.
Like a drifting cloud of happiness from a past time,
It haunts and mocks me,
And each time I enter this house again,
It shines even brighter.
It tries to keep me here,
In the tranquil, in the secure—

Yet I am painfully aware,
That this security would also mean my decay.
How my entire being rebels at the thought
Of remaining in a place without a future!
But does it truly?
Perhaps the illusion is not one of stillness,
But of distance?
Perhaps the illusion of world-weariness is greater than ever;
Plaguing me in my dreams,
Luring me to its side, into Death’s grasp…