Guestbook (1)


¡What a change! look at him, is tired, Old drum major: There, when the empire was flourishing, Buxom and happy he looked. Erect, and the smile on his lips, Proud moved his stick; The silver lace of her dress Before the sun glare. When I walked into town and villages Among lively drumbeats, Girls and women are stirred, Which echo the roll, the heart. Reach, see and conquer was his destiny, Which the new Caesar, his master; And the cry of the German blonde His curly mustache wet. It was necessary to suffer, in every land Caesar the plant domino The men subdued the monarch, Beautiful women drum. Patients, which German oaks, Long suffered such disgrace; License to finally rid the country He gave us our rightful lord. Which of the circus in the arena, the brave bull Erect our horns in anger, And singing songs of Koerner, French shake off oppression. Canto terrible! yes so horrible In French ears rang; And the spirit of horror invaded They fled the monarch and the drum. The price, at last, one day found both Satanic life of its fierce, And in the hands of the English, defeated and sad, Napoleon fell prisoner. St. Helena in the rock desert He suffered martyrdom, and sorrow and pain; After long and untold suffering, Of stomach cancer expired. Removed, and unprotected and old, The same was the fate of the drum; Not starving, the wretched In our hotel as a servant entered. He heats the pan, the floor wash; And driving the water in your pain Go up against gray and flickering The ladder, step after step. When my good friend Federico A visit will, good humor Not deprived of the enjoyment of laughing, A giant surrendered coast. Oh, stop teasing, Federico! It is worthy of Germany's mission To overwhelm with smiles the fallen, With taunts and jeers pain. Treat you, friend, these people With more respect and more circumspection. On behalf of your mother, father had Perhaps it is the wretched drum! By: Heinrich Heine