Through the consecutive Decembers, Mays
a man rushes around like crazy
and behind us there are
a hundred opportunities left out
someone reproaches us every now and then
when there's frost or heat, in winter or summer
so many unnoticed chances
and someone's right but after all...

...we're still playing 'find something green', we're not dying yet
one day we'll bounce off the wall once more
the spring rains will still awake green vegetation
the wintry rubbish will still burn down in a bonfire
we're still playing 'find something green', we still have gleaming eyes
those who shook their finger at us will bow to us yet again
we might be in trouble but in the depths of despair?
not yet
not for a long time

so let's not worry 'cause after all
it doesn't add up not only for us
it's important to have at least once a month
a dictation at hope
to note down letter by letter
in the exercise book of the heart
and reprise quietly
these easy-peasy words:

we're still playing 'find something green', we're not dying yet
our beautiful days, dreams and plans will still be fulfiled
let's just not succumb to premature concern
let's be like those old sparrows that aren't afraid of the scarecrow
we're still playing 'find something green' although more than one temple is grey-haired
salt will be wise* and the truth will out yet again
different roads lead us but the one that plunges into the precipice?
not yet
not for a while

we're still playing 'find something green', zest for life hasn't palled for us yet
in the attic everone's glueing the broken wings back together yet again
and Icarus who's plummeted down more than once is thinking to himself:
"if the wind blew hard, I'd fly up again"
we're still playing 'find something green' although life gives us gyp
we act our parts in it - sight-readers without a prompter
we act in various plays but in the one that ends badly?
not yet
not for a long time!