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Translation
Mudslinging
Ominous, the Germanic forest
From time immemorial dark and cold
Full of drips, secrets and lights
Interwoven, entangled in dead faces
The sweat trickles, the rain trickles
All legionnaires must give everything
Without trousers, the Roman way
Defiled, exhausted, but beardless
They wade through mud that reaches to their knees
Gathering closer and closer still
Deep fear ties up their throats
Upon which every single one here senses
It appears to be alive, this nightmarish forest
Through which nothing sounds due to fog and rain
There a branch strikes, there a mushroom stares
In the swamp, it reaches out for you, and your soul wants it!
Thus the soldiers are chilled to the bone and without vigour
Everything drenched, three carried off by the swamp
But yet: "Semper fidelis!" Always loyal, they follow Varus, their leader
Which, on his part, is lead by Armin, the Cheruscan
Suddenly the forest's gnawing anxiety
Transforms into a throng of people
When the Cheruscan sounds a whistle
And the legions pierce a wasps' nest
Out of the mud, out of the leaves on the ground and on the trees
Suddenly Germanic people endlessly break out
A call like one of a thousand bears sounds
Which only nurtures the fear of the Romans that are deadly exhausted
And soon, dug by the sword, the bloodstream flows
Outpouring to the ground with thunderous noise
Every soot-blackened Germanic
Stormed forward in disguise, brings down the baggage
Arrows and spears rain down from trees and hills
As the rows of Romans nimbly flatten
But black faces go to Valhall too
And blood and pain is pervasive
Heads and arms and hands rain down,
In the end the swamp is red with blood
And torn mouths and eyes
In death now looking distortetly from the ground
The horror lasts until the third night
In the light of torches one can see the women
How they steal from the Romans, find the husband
Weepingly recognized the dearest one that didn't escape
When the morning fog flows
Wolf and eagle have already arrived
Refresh themselves with the stream that ran endlessly
Dead flesh now rewards their greed
Through piles of torn bodies
Riders rummage noisily
Dragging dead Cheruscans on biers
Exiled by weapons, the greedy ones flee
Thus the fallen ones are piled up
And destroyed by flames of smouldering wet wood
Only the Romans, nailed to trees, remain in the bloody moor
Sacrificed on altars, piece by piece
Their skulls and weapons offered to Odin
In the sacred grove, protected by night
Long the soul-fires keep smoking
Through which the soul is renewed
And far above in Valhalla
Long the Cheruscs praise themselves
How well they trained the Romans!
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Submitted by 
Petra Rusálka on 2018-01-19
Petra Rusálka on 2018-01-19Added in reply to request by 
Fiikus
Fiikus ✕
Heilung: Top 3
| 1. | ᚨᛚᚠᚨᛞᚺᛁᚱᚺᚨᛁᛏᛁ (Alfadhirhaiti) |
| 2. | Norupo |
| 3. | Krigsgaldr |
Idioms from "Schlammschlacht"
| 1. | Chilled to the bone |
| 2. | Semper fidelis |
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