Venerable Marx, if you lived in these lands
You would be quickly clean shaven and sent to a school for re-education.
The fact that even the cows from the East
Which grazed near the railway line
Now think that they are locomotives and stopped giving milk
Is a mistake put to your name.
It would be so good if the cities were ruled by merchants
So that the marketplace should not stink of so much rhetoric
Let free the brewers, the pastrami makers, the milkmen
Full of the dialectics of fermented hops
And of the hardened cheese.
For the time being the farmer would gladly come to scythe
The green sepia of the punks heads
For the time being, thinking that you are dead
The new philosophers get drunk on the idea that they polemicise with you.
They have not got the daring to smell the yeast which ferments
To blow up the society
And start the alembic
Through which
The revolutionary Cohn Bendit
Precipitated into an amiable mayor.
In fact even myself who am an ordinary character
I am coming out like a slug from the syntax and the logic
To dream up that stomach virus
Which makes one drunk on a piece of bread.
Come on, taste it
We are on the right course
In Berlin the clocks started to go haywire.