The street is empty, the wind rips the trees
today there is no undulating countryside to look at
The asphalt is black, otherwise gray dominates,
the mood is stuffy, fatigue prevails
He is wearing a jacket, in the hip pocket of which
you can find a bunch of well-wrapped consciences
You can light them with dry sticks,
yet I still know ¤ one with a broken head
The wind rips the trees and whispers
After the first time I said this will not happen again
until a new summer arrived, a flower and lle timotei
The summer wind dries the wet shoes,
but doesn't dry the soles, everyone limps in a way
Everyone limps in a way but rarely on purpose
You reap the harvest as you sow now you are
You pay your reeds with
Sin for sin, sinners in the streets
where there is no life
You pay your reeds with
The street is empty, the wind is tearing the trees
today there is no undulating countryside to look at
The asphalt is black, otherwise gray dominates,
the atmosphere is gloomy
You reap the harvest as you have sown
You will pay for your reeds
Sin for sin, sinners will perish
where there is no life
You reap the same harvest as you sowed oot
You pay your reeds with
Sin for sin, the sinners will die
where there is no life
You pay your reeds with

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