Paroles et traduction Wolfgang Ambros - De Höld'n san scho olle tot

De Höld'n san scho olle tot

De Kapön spüt an Trauermarsch,
"Ich hatt einen Kameraden".
De Leit schaun net traurig,
Sondern ehrfurchtsvoi
Und denkn an die großen Taten.
Hintan Soag gengan zwa,
De trogn a Tablett,
Seine Oadn, de wos eam übalebt haum,
Weu Oadn steabn net.
Da Pforra schaut in Himme
Und dazöht vom liabn Gott,
De Leit sogn, jo er woa a Höd.
Nua de Hödn san scho olle tot.
Da Senatsrot hoit a Rede
Und sogt: ich hab ihn nie söbst gekannt.
Anonym wia olle Hödn is er gstuabn
Und dafür daunkt ihms Voterlaund.
Er braucht ka Rentn mehr,
Ka Bett im Spitoi.
So an Hödn deaf jo a nix wehtuan.
Es bleibt jo nua, es woa amoi ...
Da Pforra schaut in Himme
Und dazöht vom liabn Gott,
De Leit sogn, jo er woa a Höd.
Nua de Hödn san scho olle tot.
Wias sein Soag obelossn
Is sogoa de Zeit im Bild dabei.
In an Gemeindebau schreit ana in de Kuchl:
Heast, kumm, zah au, da Kojak kummt jetzt glei.
Auf sein Grob liegn Bluman
Und a klans Grobliacht brennt,
A poa Meta drunta liegt da Höd,
Den kana von uns kennt.
Da Pforra trinkt a Glaserl Wein,
I glaub es is a Vierterl Rot,
Trinkt aus und schenkt si no ans ei,
Weu di Hödn san scho olle tot.

All the Heroes Are Dead

The band plays a funeral march,
"I Had a Comrade".
The people don't look sad,
But rather reverent
And think of the great deeds.
Behind the coffin two go,
They carry a tray,
His medals, which survived him,
Because medals do not die.
The priest looks to heaven
And tells of the dear God,
The people say, yes he was a hero.
Only all the heroes are dead.
The Senator delivers a speech
And says: I never knew him myself.
Anonymous like all heroes he died
And for that the Fatherland thanks him.
He doesn't need a pension anymore,
No bed in the hospital.
Such a hero, after all, can't feel any pain.
It only remains, he once was ...
The priest looks to heaven
And tells of the dear God,
The people say, yes he was a hero.
Only all the heroes are dead.
As they lower his coffin
Even the news is there.
In a municipal building someone shouts in the kitchen:
Hey, come on, turn it up, Kojak is coming on right now.
On his grave lie flowers
And a small grave light burns,
A few feet below lies the hero,
Whom none of us knows.
The priest drinks a glass of wine,
I think it is a quarter of red,
Drinks up and pours himself another,
Because all the heroes are dead.