Lyrics of Õhtumaa viimased tunnid - J.M.K.E.

Õhtumaa viimased tunnid (original)

Tead, et igal kultuuril on tõusu ja languse faas.
Mis kõrgele hüppab, peagi on sirakil maas.
Meil on on see õnn, et saame me veel näha oma eluajal,
kuidas põrmu langeb Õhtumaa.
Käes on Õhtumaa viimased tunnid,
veel agoonias rabeleb ta.
Tema loojuva päikese kiirtes
klaasi tõstan ja ütlen: aidaa.
See on postmodernistliku näidendi viimane vaatus.
See on posthumanistliku luige katkenud laul.
See tarbijate paradiis on tarbind ennast lõhki.
Ta tükid kukuvad eilsesse.
Õhtumaa viimased tunnid
kõnnivad riburada me taga.
Ja me jookseme nende eest ära.
Ei tee me tegemist hävinevaga.
Õhtumaa viimased tunnid.
Kaunis ja kohutav loojang.
Õhtumaal õhtu on käes
ja õhtu ei tõota ju sooja.
See, mida Euroopa tähendas kunagi meile,
sel polegi tähtsust.
See oli ju kunagi eile.
Me homsesse nüüd vaatame ja me ei tea, mis tuleb sealt,
kuid midagi sealt tulema ju peab.
Käes on Õhtumaa viimased tunnid,
veel agoonias rabeleb ta.
Tema loojuva päikese kiirtes
klaasi tõstan ja ütlen: aidaa.
Õhtumaa viimased tunnid.
Mõned ees on veel, mõned on taga.
Meie astume kõrvale sealt
ja ei tea, kas me astume tagasi veel.

(translation)

You know that every culture has a phase of ups and downs.
What jumps high will soon be on the ground.
We have the happiness that we can still see in our lifetime,
how the dust falls in the West.
Here are the last hours of the West,
still in agony he struggles.
In the rays of his setting sun
I raise my glass and say: help.
This is the last scene of a postmodern play.
It's a broken song from a posthumanist swan.
This consumer paradise is consuming itself.
His pieces fall into yesterday.
The last hours of the West
walk the stripe track behind us.
And we run away from them.
We are not dealing with destruction.
The last hours of the West.
Beautiful and terrible sunset.
Evening is evening
and the evening does not promise warmth.
What Europe once meant to us
it doesn't matter.
That was once yesterday.
We're looking at tomorrow now and we don't know what's coming from there,
but something has to come from there.
Here are the last hours of the West,
still in agony he struggles.
In the rays of his setting sun
I raise my glass and say: help.
The last hours of the West.
Some are still in front, some are in the back.
We're stepping aside from there
and I don't know if we'll step back yet.