Er wartet auf den Mittagswind
Die Welle kommt und legt sich matt
Mit einem Facher jeden Tag
Der Alte macht das Wasser glatt

Ich werf den Stein zu meinem Spass
Das Wasser sich im Kreis bewegt
Der Alte sieht mich traurig an
Und hat es wieder glatt gefegt

Im weissen Sand der alte Mann
Zitternd sein Pfeife raucht
Nur das Wasser und ich wissen
Wozu er diesen Facher braucht

Die Ahnung schlaft wie ein Vulkan
Zogernd hab ich dann gefragt
Den Kopf geneigt es schien er schlaft
Hat er bevor er starb gesagt

Das Wasser soll dein Spiegel sein
Erst wenn es glatt ist, wirst du sehen
Wieviel Marchen dir noch bleibt
und um Erlosung wirst du flehen

Den Facher an den Leib gepresst
Im Todeskrampf erstarrt die Hand
Die Finger mussten sie ihm brechen
Der Facher bleibt zurueck im Sand

Den Alten ruf ich jeden Tag
Er mochte mich doch hier erloesen
Ich bleib zuruck im Mittagswind
Und in dem Facher kann ich lesen

Das Wasser soll...

English translate: Old Man

He's waiting for the midday wind
And waves spread out so dull and slack
And with a hand fan every day
The old man smooths the water back

I cast a stone in just for fun
The water rings moved on the plane
So sadly stood the old man by
And swept the water flat again

In white sand the old man sat
Trembling as he smoked his pipe
Just the water and I know that
The fan is of a special type

Awareness sleeps volcano dreams
Reluctant I asked him why
His head hung low as if he slept
And the he said before he died

The water will be your only mirror
First when it's like glass can you see
How many fairytales you have left
For your deliverance you will plead

The fan was pressed to his breast
Just as death's grip seized up his hand
His fingers must have been so tight
The fan remained back in the sand

I call the old man every day
Should he come and deliver me
I stay here with the midday wind
And in the fan it is plain to read

The water will...

He is waiting for the noon wind
The wave comes and crashes weakly
With a hand fan, every day
The old man smoothes the water

I throw the stone for my fun
The water moves in a circle.
The old man looks at me sadly
And he smoothed it again

In the white sand the old man
Smokes his pipe, shaking.
Only the water and I know
For what he needs this fan

The premonition sleeps like a volcano
I asked him then, hesitatingly,
The head bowed, it seemed he sleeps,
He said before he died

The water shall be your mirror
Only when it is smooth, you will see
How much fairy tale remains for you
And you will beg for redemption

The fan pressed to the body
The hand stiffens in rigor mortis
They had to break his fingers
The fan remained in the sand

I call the old man every day
That he would redeem me here
I remain in the noon wind
And can read in the fan

The water shall be your mirror
Only when it is smooth, you will see
How much fairy tale remains for you
And you will beg for redemption