Till Lindemann's 'Messer' - "Zum Sein Von Schlechten Eltern"

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.
- Philip Larkin, 'This Be The Verse'

I'll put a trigger warning on this one for possible hitting-too-close-to-home situations.

Disclaimer: Poem copyrighted to Till Lindemann. This post does not include photos/illustrations of said poem from 'Messer'. The original German text is also not included. This is only a interpretive translation and accuracy is not guaranteed.



To Be Of Poor Parents

I hate your father
On his fat stomach -
On her limp hams
That mother of yours too.
Snatching the patience of the breast
On a night full of the need of flesh
Fell within the right of marriage, and
You testified on a dry champagne
While shame feasted on dry bread

The ovaries of Mama -
Even the bugs under the bed
Celebrated a filthy festival
Getting drunk on testicular fat
But the great love broke free
And rolled in the dirt in pain
Was lost in a nearby pond
And was carried away with a shovel

Ah, the mother was ill in step
Too late to evacuate the animals
Threw you into the dust of Being -
And now my eyes water.
For I, twenty winters on, would bestow
My poison onto you, day and night
Tied to the rotten fruit of the loins
And brought close to my very soul.

Comments: If you thought 'Meine Mutter Ist Blind' was bad for the father complex thing, this one really does take the cake. I have a feeling that it is far from the last one Till wrote about either his parents or the action of being a (bad) parent. Just for extra horror factor, imagine that 'du' in this story is Till himself, his significant others or his children. Man hands on misery to man, indeed.