In a slumber, at night,
I see the heavy crimes where men bleed
Poor me, poor wretched me!
The wineskin is full to bursting

In the morning, how bitter is
the taste of the accursed wine!
Go on, spend all my money,
for today I’ll be thirsty.

Nothing’s right, not anymore
to live like a man, like a man,
like an upright man.
Nothing’s right anymore to live like a man should.

In all the bottomless pothouses
I burry myself in every night,
I am the emperor of buffoons,
I am anybody’s brother.

I go and throw up my repentance
in front of tabernacles,
but how can I pray in the smoke
of the deacons incense?

And like an old wolf
in the woods, fleeing the worst,
I remained alone with myself,
near the mountains where breathing is easy.

Here I sought a new air
on a higher summit,
but who could tell from a distance
a true fir tree from a false one?

Nothing’s right, not anymore
to live like a man, like a man,
like an upright man.
Nothing’s right anymore to live like a man should.

Far from any ploy, I follow my life,
leaving a trail in the snow
so that he could find me,
the friend who follows me, far from any procession

Ah come, stand up, come here,
in front and behind!
We have nothing but false friends,
false loves, false brothers

Do you see the witches here and there,
inside the moving forest?
Do you see the executioner
over there, in his red coat?

Nothing’s right anymore,
here on our dirt roads,
but I fear the hereafter
will look like a hell

Nothing’s right, not anymore
to live like a man, like a man,
like an upright man.
Nothing’s right anymore to live like a man should.



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