The Secret Germany (For Paul Celan)

How slowly it changed your mirth into moan
How slowly estranged you form girth of home
You were no friend to your king, you faithful few
A few last wolves will have to do
O, what care for all of our dreams
It’s the sweetest memory
To have seen you fall to your knees
For your Secret Germany
How slowly you threw him off your throne
How thoroughly sealed the books of Rome
The trap was laid to recover what was lost
Now holy thy name and holy thy thrust
Wer rettet uns den Frieden wenn nicht wir selbst?