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Homecoming
From a distant land I am coming home
in my old car, and
oh, so many days, oh, so many miles
burden my meter
Now I am met, now I am blamed
by the black currant,
which has turned bitter,
which has turned bitter,
which has turned bitter!
Many days ago, many months ago
I was gone far, and
many words of pride, many words of love
in my heart glittered.
Now Im trembling here in the northern wind
with the black currant,
which is so bitter,
which is so bitter,
which is so bitter!
What has happened here with my native land,
with the life current?
All the riverside is now steep and dead:
killed with black litter.
All my porch was raked by the berry hail
of the black currant,
which is too bitter,
which is too bitter,
which is too bitter
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Risen from the frozen northern spaces,
Hardly leaving in the sky a trail,
Heading from the Earth to better places,
There a weary soul will soar and sail.
Neither Hell nor Zion will he be in:
Hes a Marxist, but hes not to blame;
He will drift, a sorrowful being,
Scarlet, in the black sky, like a flame.
Devils will be weeping for the stranger,
Seraphs will afford a single sigh,
And the bloody-red and anxious angel
In the ether will forever fly.
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