אנגלית
With the skirt of Kattun and the yellow cloth And the eyes of the black seas Without money and talent and nevertheless with enough Of the black hair, which carried it openly Up to the blacker Zeh´n: That was the Hanna cash, my child Those the "Gentlemen" in-soaped Those came with the wind and went with the wind Into the Savannen runs. 2 Those had no shoes and those had also no shirt And those knew also no Choraele! And it was washed like a cat into the large city A small grey cat gotten jammed between woods Between corpses into the black channels. She washed the glasses of the Absinth But never itself purely And nevertheless the Hanna cash, my child must Been also pure its. 3 And it came an at night into the sailor bar With the eyes of the black seas And J. Kent met with the mole hair The Messerjack from that sailor bar And it left with itself gehn! And if the wild Kent the grind Scratched themselves and blinzelte Then the Hanna cash feels, my child The view into the toe. 4 They "came themselves more near" between game and fish And "went united through the life" They did not have no bed and them had a table And they did not have game still fish And no names for the children. But whether snow wind whistles, whether rain runs Ersoeff also the Savann The Hanna cash, my child remains With their dear man. 5 The Sheriff says that he is a rogue And the milk woman says: it goes bent. She however says: What participates? It is my man. And it was so free And remained with it. Therefore. And if it limps and if it spinnt And if it gives it impacts: It asks the Hanna cash, my child But only: whether she loves it. 6 No roof was, where the cradle was And the impacts struck parents. Those went together year by year From the bitumen city into the forests And into the Savann from the forests. Solang one goes into snow and wind Until that one cannot do no more So long the Hanna cash, my child went Now times with their man. 7 No dress was poor, as the their was And there was no Sunday for it No trip too third into the Kirschtortenbar And no Weizenfladen in the Kar And no mouth harmony. And was each day, as all are And gab´s no sunlight: It had the Hanna cash, my child Those always sun in the face. 8 He probably stole the fish, and salt stole her. So war´s. The life is heavy. And if it cooked the fish, see: Thus the children on its knee said The Katechismus ago. By fifty year in night and wind They slept in a bed. That was the Hanna cash, my child God mach´s it once. (the Hauspostille, 1927)
