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Heinrich Heine

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from Zeitgedichte

Adam the First

You sent the heavenly cops with a sword,
flaming and driving me batty,
and chased me out of Paradise.
That was unjust, Lord Daddy.

I had to pack up the wife, get out
of the neighbourhood, just leave;
but now that I’ve eaten the fruit with the facts,
I know what’s up your sleeve.

You can’t trick me, I’ve got your number.
You’re small, you’re just a Nothing,
no matter how you puff yourself up
with thunder and death and lightning.

O God! How pitiful is this,
your little plan to evict us.
I call it rather magnificent,
the Light of the World, an Invictus!

I’m never going to miss that place,
your Eden’s just a crock.
What kind of Paradise is that
where trees are under lock?

I want my freedom full, without
the tiniest restraint;
or Paradise for me’s a hell –
the slammer where I ain’t.

Translated by Douglas Airmet

Page(s) 19-20

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