The Dance of Death

The Dance of Death
to the tune of “That’s how we live”
Written by Hugo Ball & Translated by William Seaton

So we die, so we die,
we die all the time,
because it feels so good to be put down.
Mornings spent in sleep and dream,
by midday we are there,
evenings already deep down in the grave.

Of war is built our house of joy.
Our sun is made of blood.
Death’s our trademark, our watchword.
We abandon wife and child.
What have they to do with us?
If only we could
leave ourselves.

That’s how we kill, that’s how we kill,
we’re killing every day
our brothers in the dance of death.
Brother, let me see you
brother, see your breast,
brother, you must go down and die.

We don’t mumble, we don’t grumble,
we’re silent every day
till the joint of the hip-bone turns.
Our bedstead’s hard
and dry our bread, the dear god bloody and begrimed.

We thank, oh, we thank you,
Kaiser, for your grace,
that you have chosen us for death..
Just sleep now, sleep soft and still,
until you wake,
oh, our poor bodies, covered by the grass.