THE PROFESSOR’S WIFE (Satis Shroff)

My husband is mad
Er spinnt
Er ist verrückt!
Says Frau Fleckenstein, my landlady
As she staggers down the steps.

She arrests her swaying
With a hiccup
And says: ‘Entschuldigen Sie’
And throws up her misery,
Discontent, melancholy and agony.
The pent-up emotions
Of a forty year married life.

Her husband is a high-brow, an honourable man
A professor with a young mistress.
And she has her bottles:
Red wine, white wine
Burgunder, Tokay and Ruländer
Schnaps, Whiskey,
Kirschwasser and Feuerwasser
The harder the better.

She defends herself
She offends herself
With bitterness and eagerness.
Her looks are gone
Once her asset, now a liability.
A leathery skin, and bags under the eyes
Her hair unkempt, and a pot belly.
A bad liver and a surplus of spleen
A fairy turned a grumbler.

Tension charges the air
Pots and pans flying everywhere
Fury and frustration
Tumult and verbal terror
Rage and rancour
Of a marriage gone asunder.
And what remains is a facade
Of a professor and his spouse
Grown grey and 'grausam'
Faces that say: Guten Tag
When it's cloudy, stormy, hurricane.

To forgive and forget
That's human folly.
I'll bear my grudges, says milady.
And my landlord is indeed a lord
A lord over his wealth, wife and wretched life
A merciless, remorseless, pitiless existence
In the winter of their lives.
Too old to divorce
And too young to die.
What remains is only the lie...

Glossary:
Entschuldigen Sie: excuse me
Guten Tag: good day
grausam: horrible
___________________________________________________________________

A SIGHING BLONDE PRINCESS (Satis Shroff)

She had short, golden hair
Tied neatly behind
With a blue satin-scarf.
And yet I saw her
Wearing a diadem
And a flowing satin gown
Like a princess.

A meek, submissive smile
A movement of her blonde hair
Akin to a Bolshoi ballerina
In moments of embarrassment and coyness.
Her blue Allemanic eyes, sweet and honest
They knew no intrigue,
Neither treachery nor rebellion.
"I was brought up to obey," she whispered.

Pure bliss and love sublime.
A book you could read
Plain and straight
And not in-between the lines.

An openness, and yet
She's resolute and seeks
Perhaps stability
Or security?

A neglected childhood
With pain and punishment.
A legacy of the Black Forest
Nevertheless, she remained
Soft and tender, submissive and sincere.
Not demanding and aggressive
Ever alert and never omissive.

Murmurs and sighs filled the air.
Love became stormy and frantic.
Sweat and aphrodisiac mingled,
To create a moment of magic,
To recede in moans and whispers
And a thousand kisses.

Brought to reality
By the rays of the dying sun
And the sudden noise
Of birds coming home to roost.
A tranquillity after the tumult
Within our passionate souls.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE HOLY COWS OF KATHMANDU (Satis Shroff)

Holy cow! The mayor of Kathmandu
Has done it.
Since ancient times a taboo
The free, nonchalant cows
Of Kathmandu were rounded up
In a rodeo by the Nepalese police.
Was it Nandi, Shiva's bull?
Or holy cows?
"They're cattle still," said the mayor.
"Straying cattle are not wanted".

Eighty-eight holy cows
Were auctioned
Not at Sotheby's
But in Kathmandu.
The auction yielded 64,460 rupees
Said the mayor of Kathmandu.

Cows that were a nuisance
To pedestrians and tourists at Thamel.
Cows that provided dung
And four other products:
Milk, yoghurt, butter and urine
For many a hearth.
Cows that gave urine
That the Hindus collected.
Cows that were sacred
And worshipped as the cow-mother.
Cows that were donated
And set free by Brahmins and Chettris
To set themselves free from sins.
Cows that marked the Gaijatra,
An eight-day homage to the dead.

It was a king, according to legend,
Who ordered cows to be set free
By families in mourning
In the streets of Kathmandu,
Patan and Bhaktapur.
To share the bereaved pain of
The death of a beloved prince
And a sad mother and queen.

The children disguised themselves
As grotesque cows and motley figures
And danced to Nepalese music
To make the queen laugh,
And forget her tears.

Even today the bereaved
Families drive their cows
Through the streets of Kathmandu
On the day of Gaijatra:
The festival of the cows.
Despite the ecological control
On the cows of Kathmandu,
Lalitpur and Bhaktapur.

From ancient times
Kings, noblemen, pedestrians
Cyclists, pull-carts, cars,
Scooters and rickshaws,
The traffic snaked around the holy cows.

The umwelt-conscious mayor
Has made up his mind:
The cattle are obstructing the traffic
Long-haired Nepalese youth need a crew-cut
Horse-pulled carts and rickshaws must go.
They worsen sanitation
And environmental problems.
But the carpets and cars must stay.

Elephant-rides remain for the tourists
After all, we've developed
A yen for dollars, francs and marks.
Kathmandu is catching up
With the rest of the world.

Glossary:
Gaijatra: cow-festival in Kathmandu
Umwelt: German word for environment
Braahmins, Chettris: high castes in Hinduism


WHEN THE SOUL LEAVES (Satis Shroff)

Like Shakespeare said, 'All the world's a stage'
And we've played many different roles in our lives
In various places and scenarios.
As we grow old and ripe, our knowledge of the world grows.
We hold what we cannot see, smell, taste and touch in our memories.
We only have to walk down memory lane
To find the countless faces, places, sights and sounds that we have stored,
To be recalled and retrieved through association
In conversations with others
Or when we contemplate alone.

Why should elderly people be scared of social terror and ageing?
Ageing is a biological phenomenon.
We should be glad that we have lived useful lives,
Filled with good experiences.
The wonderful children that we have created,
The very gems of our genes,
Each so individual in their personalities.
The house we lived in and filled
With love, laughter, songs and music.
The parents and grand-parents, friends and relatives
We have had the time to share with.
But we should be able to assert our exit from this earthly existence
In the manner that we desire,
And not leave it in the hands
Of an intensive life-extension unit.

Let us dwell on common experiences and encounters
That we can take with us,
When the soul leaves the body
And races towards space and becomes unified
With the ever expanding, timeless cosmos.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LONGING FOR A DAY (Satis Shroff)

She was only ten years old one wintry night,
When her father seized her,
Warmed and satisfied himself
With her growing, glowing, shivering body.
He said in his smelly, hoarse, drunken voice:
'You are mine.
You belong to me.
I'm taking only what's mine.'
She whined, shook and cried, to no avail.
She had no word for it, this nefarious deed.
She told her Mom with tears in her eyes, but she only said,
'Hush, my daughter. This is taboo.
You shouldn't talk about it.
Never tell it to anyone,
For everyone will shun and curse us,
And leave us to starve.'

Despite what my Mom said,
This was my tragic story and it clung to me.
I had to let it out.

Nine months later, I, who was still small, got a child.
The splitting image of my Dad.
Shortly thereafter my Mom died of grief and shame.
Now I was alone with my wretched father.
My son was my solace.
His winning smile help me ease my pain.
He knew not what evil existed in this world,
And that he was created illegally.

I had hope in my helplessness.
I could perhaps mould him to an avenger
Of his mother's disgrace and shame.

I'm waiting for that day.
___________________________________________________________________

Der Verlust des Sohnes einer Mutter (Satis Shroff)

Der Gurkha[1] mit einem gefährlichen Khukuri[2]
Aber kein Feind in Sicht,
Arbeitet für den UNO, und wird erschossen
für Einsätze, die er nicht begreift.
Befehl ist Hukum[3], Hukum ist sein Leben
Johnny Gurkha[4] stirbt noch unter fremdem Himmel.

Er fragt nie warum
Die Politik ist nicht seine Stärke.
Er hat gegen alle gekämpft:
Türken, Tibeter, Italiener, und Inder
Deutsche, Japaner, Chinesen,
Vietnamesen und Argentinier[5].

Loyal bis ans Ende,
Er trauert keinem Verlust nach.
Der Verlust des Sohnes einer Mutter,
Von den Bergen Nepals.

Ihr Großvater starb in Birmas Dschungel
Für die glorreichen Engländer.
Ihr Mann fiel in Mesopotamien,
Sie weiß nicht gegen wen,
Keiner hat es ihr gesagt.
Ihr Bruder ist in Frankreich gefallen,
Gegen die teutonische Reichsarmee.

Sie betet Shiva[6] von den Schneegipfeln an
Für Frieden auf Erden, und ihres Sohnes Wohlbefinden.
Ihr einzige Freude, ihre letzte Hoffnung,
Während sie den Terrassenacker auf einem schroffen Hang bestellt.
Ein Sohn, der ihr half,
Ihre Tränen zu wischen
Und den Schmerz in ihrem mütterlichen Herz zu lindern.

Eine arme Mutter, die mit den Jahreszeiten lebt,
Jahr ein und Jahr aus, hinunter in die Täler schaut
Mit Sehnsucht auf ihren Soldatensohn.

Ein Gurkha ist endlich unterwegs
Man hört es über den Bergen mit einem Geschrei.
Es ist ein Offizier von seiner Batallion.
Ein Brief mit Siegel und ein Pokergesicht
„Ihren Sohn starb im Dienst“, sagt er lakonisch
„Er kämpfte für den Frieden des Landes
Und für die Vereinigten Nationen“.

Eine Welt bricht zusammen
Und kommt zu einem Ende.
Ein Kloß im Hals der Nepali Mutter.
Nicht ein Wort kann sie herausbringen.
Weg ist ihr Sohn, ihr kostbares Juwel.
Ihr einzige Versicherung und ihr Sonnenschein.
In den unfruchtbaren, kargen Bergen,
Und mit ihm ihre Träume
Ein spartanisches Leben, das den Tod bringt.

Glossar:
Gurkha: Nepali Söldner die in der Nepali, indischen und britischen Eliteeinheiten dienen. Sie entstammen vornehmlich den Gurung und Magar, aus dem Westen Nepals sowie den Kirati-Gruppen, den Rai und den Limbu. Auch Tamang, Thakali und Chettris zählen zu ihnen.
Khukuri: Krummes vielzweck Nepali Messer, das nicht nur für rituelle Zwecke gebraucht wird, sondern auch im Nahkampf. „Ayo Gurkhali!“ lautet der furchterregende Schlachtruf der wendigen Gurkhas, die einen legendären Ruf wegen ihrer Geschicklichkeit, sich im Dschungel zu behaupten, geniessen.
Hukum: bedeutet Befehl von Oben (vom König oder der Obrigkeit)
Johnny Gurkha: Eine Bezeichnung für die Nepalis die in Englands Gurkha Einheiten (z.B. King Edward’s Own Gurkha Rifles) dienen. Sie leisten auch heute noch ihren Eid auf die britische Königin und ziehen u. a. vor dem Buckingham Palast als Ehrenwache auf. Britische Gurkhas dienten in Malaysia, Indonesien (Borneo), Hongkong, Brunei, Zypern und neuerdings auch in Kosovo.
Argentinier: 1982 waren die Gurkhas auf dem Falkland Inseln gegen Argentinier eingesetzt worden.
Shiva: Gott der Zerstörung in Hinduismus
___________________________________________________________________



About the Author:

Satis Shroff is a prolific writer and teaches Creative Writing at the Albert Ludwig University of Freiburg. He is a lecturer, poet and writer and the published author of three books on www.Lulu.com: Im Schatten des Himalaya (book of poems in German), Through Nepalese Eyes (travelogue), Katmandu, Katmandu (poetry and prose anthology by Nepalese authors, edited by Satis Shroff). His lyrical works have been published in literary poetry sites: Slow Trains, International Zeitschrift, World Poetry Society (WPS), New Writing North, Muses Review, The Megaphone, Pen Himalaya, Interpoetry. He is a member of “Writers of Peace”, poets, essayists, novelists (PEN), World Poetry Society (WPS) and The Asian Writer. He is based in Freiburg (poems, fiction, non-fiction) and also writes on ecological, ethno-medical, culture-ethnological themes and lectures at the University of Freiburg. He has studied Zoology and Botany in Nepal, Medicine and Social Sciences in Germany and Creative Writing in Freiburg and the United Kingdom. He describes himself as a mediator between western and eastern cultures and sees his future as a writer and poet. Since literature is one of the most important means of cross-cultural learning, he is dedicated to promoting and creating awareness for Creative Writing and transcultural togetherness in his writings, and in preserving an attitude of Miteinander in this world. He lectures in Basle (Switzerland) and in Germany at the Akademie für medizinische Berufe (University Klinikum Freiburg) and the Zentrum für Schlüsselqualifikationen (University of Freiburg where he is a Lehrbeauftragter for Creative Writing). Satis Shroff was awarded the German Academic Exchange Prize.

We Love You, Mr. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

Your longing for your mythical island:
Neverland,
Got the better of you.
We still hear your high pitched voice
Haunting us in our dreams.
We love you.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
Born in Gary, Indiana
On August 29, 1958
Is at peace with the world,
Despite the persisting tumult
Here on earth.
We love you.

So long Mr. Jackson
Wherever you are.
The moment your soul
Left your body
And headed for the cosmos
At the speed of light,
Your earthly uncertainties,
Eccentric lifestyle,
Bizarre disintegration,
Angst,
Dollar debts, law suits,
The 100,000 dollar bill
For prescription drugs
From a Beverly Hill apothecary,
Suddenly became a thing of the past.

What remains are the shock, sadness,
Memories of your handsome face,
Ruined by plastic surgery.
What we cherish in our memories
Are your moonwalk,
Catchy rhythms,
Beat and split-second timing
As you danced, sang and thrilled us.
Your exquisite voice and haunting lyrics:
I’ll Be There,
Billie Jean,
Black or White,
Bad, Thriller,
Dangerous, History,
Heal the World.

If Elvis was the first white
Who could sing and swivel
His hips like a black,
You showed the world:
It didn’t matter
If you’re Black or White.
You were the global artist
Par excellence,
With a great soul.
We love you for it.

We looked forward to
This is It in London,
But it was not to be.
Your global fans
Are moon-walking
To your infectious rhythm
In Paris, London, Germany,
A jailhouse ‘Thriller’ dance
In a prison in Cebu.
Madame Tussaud has brought out
A Jacko in wax
At the Brandenburger gate in Berlin,
With a condolence book.
We miss you.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into French thanks to WorldLingo
Nous vous aimons, M. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

votre désir ardent pour votre île mythique :
Neverland,
obtenu le meilleur de toi.
Nous entendons toujours votre voix aiguë
nous hanter dans nos rêves.
Nous vous aimons.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
soutenu à Gary, Indiana
le 29 août 1958
est à la paix avec le monde,
en dépit du tumulte de persistance
ici sur terre.
Nous vous aimons.

Tellement longtemps M. Jackson
partout où vous êtes.
Le moment votre âme
a laissé votre corps
et se dirige pour le cosmos
à la vitesse de la lumière,
vos incertitudes terrestres,
style de vie excentrique,
désintégration bizarre,
Angst,
dettes du dollar, les costumes de loi,
le billet d'un dollar 100.000
pour des drogues de prescription
d'un apothicaire de colline de Beverly,
est soudainement devenue une chose du passé.

Quels restes sont le choc, la tristesse,
mémoires de votre visage beau,
a ruiné par chirurgie en plastique.
Ce que nous aimons dans nos mémoires
sommes votre moonwalk,
des rythmes entraînants,
battement et la dédoubler-deuxième synchronisation
comme vous avez dansé, nous a chantés et a fait frémir.
Votre voix exquise et lyrique de hantise :
Je serai là,
Billie Jean,
noir ou blanc,
mauvaise, récit à suspense,
dangereux, histoire,
guérissez le monde.

Si Elvis était le premier blanc
qui pourrait chanter et pivote
ses hanches comme un noir,
vous avez montré le monde :
Il n'a pas importé
si vous êtes noir ou blanc.
Vous étiez l'artiste global
par excellence,
avec une grande âme.
Nous vous aimons pour lui.

Nous avons attendu avec intérêt
ceci est lui à Londres,
mais elle n'était pas d'être.
Vos ventilateurs globaux
lune-marchent
à votre rythme infectieux
à Paris, Londres, Allemagne,
danse de récit à suspense de `de prison d'A'
dans une prison à Cebu.
Madame Tussaud a apporté dehors
un Jacko en cire
à la porte de Brandenburger à Berlin,
avec un livre de condoléance.
Nous nous ennuyons de toi.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into Spanish thanks to WorldLingo
Le amamos, Sr. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

su longing para su isla mítica:
Neverland,
conseguido el mejor de usted.
Todavía oímos su voz aguda
el frecuentar de nosotros en nuestros sueños.
Le amamos.

Michael José Jackson,
nacida en Gary, Indiana
el 29 de agosto de 1958
está en la paz con el mundo,
a pesar de el tumulto que persiste
aquí en la tierra.
Le amamos.

Tan de largo Sr. Jackson
dondequiera que usted sea.
El momento su alma
dejó su cuerpo
y dirigió hacia el cosmos
a la velocidad de la luz,
sus incertidumbres terrenales,
forma de vida excéntrica,
desintegración extraña,
Angst,
deudas del dólar, juegos de la ley,
la cuenta de dólar 100.000
para las drogas de la prescripción
de un apothecary de la colina de Beverly,
se convirtió en repentinamente una cosa del pasado.

Qué restos es el choque, tristeza,
memorias de su cara hermosa,
se arruinó por cirugía plástica.
Qué acariciamos en nuestras memorias
somos su moonwalk,
los ritmos pegadizos,
golpe y la partir-segunda sincronización
como usted bailó, nos cantó y emocionó.
Su voz exquisita y líricas que frecuentan:
Estaré allí,
Billie Jean,
negro o blanco,
malo, novela de suspense,
peligrosa, historia,
cure el mundo.

Si Elvis era el primer blanco
que podría cantar y gira sobre un eje
sus caderas como un negro,
usted demostró el mundo:
No importó
si usted es negro o blanco.
Usted era el artista global
por excelencia,
con una gran alma.
Le amamos para él.

Mirábamos adelante
a esto somos él en Londres,
pero no era ser.
Sus ventiladores globales
luna-están caminando
a su ritmo infeccioso
en París, Londres, Alemania,
danza de la novela de suspense del `del jailhouse de A'
en una prisión en Cebú.
Señora Tussaud ha traído hacia fuera
un Jacko en cera
en la puerta de Brandenburger en Berlín,
con un libro de la condolencia.
Le faltamos.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into Italian thanks to WorldLingo
Li amiamo, il sig. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

il vostro longing per la vostra isola mythical:
Neverland,
ottenuto il migliore di voi.
Ancora sentiamo la vostra voce aguzza
frequentarli nei nostri sogni.
Li amiamo.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
sopportata a Gary, Indiana
il 29 agosto 1958
è a pace con il mondo,
malgrado il tumult di persistenza
qui su terra.
Li amiamo.

Così lungamente sig. Jackson
dovunque siate.
Il momento la vostra anima
ha lasciato il vostro corpo
e dirige per l'universo
alla velocità di luce,
le vostre incertezze earthly,
il lifestyle eccentrico,
la disintegrazione bizzarra,
Angst,
i debiti del dollaro, i vestiti di legge,
la fattura del dollaro 100.000
per le droghe di prescrizione
da un apothecary della collina di Beverly,
improvvisamente si è trasformata in in una cosa del passato.

Che remains è la scossa, la tristezza,
memorie della vostra faccia handsome,
ha rovinato da ambulatorio di plastica.
Che cosa siamo nelle nostre memorie
siamo il vostro moonwalk,
i ritmi Catchy,
battimento e la spacc-seconda sincronizzazione
come avete ballato, li ha cantati ed eccitato.
La vostri voce squisita e lyrics frequentanti:
Sarò là,
Billie Jean,
nero o bianco,
difettoso, il racconto eccitante,
pericoloso, storia,
guar il mondo.

Se Elvis fosse il primo bianco
che potrebbe cantare e gira
le sue anche come un nero,
avete mostrato il mondo:
Non ha importato
se siete neri o il bianco.
Eravate l'artista globale
per eccellenza,
con un'anima grande.
Glie li amiamo per.

Abbiamo osservato in avanti
a questo siamo esso a Londra,
ma non era di essere.
I vostri ventilatori globali
luna-stanno camminando
al vostro ritmo contagioso
a Parigi, Londra, Germania,
ballo del racconto eccitante del `del jailhouse di A'
in una prigione a Cebu.
Il Madame Tussaud ha messo in evidenza
un Jacko in cera
al cancello di Brandenburger a Berlino,
con un libro di condoglianza.
Li manchiamo.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into German thanks to WorldLingo
Wir lieben Sie, Herrn. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

Ihre Sehnsucht für Ihre mythische Insel:
Neverland,
das bessere von Ihnen erhalten.
Wir hören noch Ihre hohe Stimme
, uns in unseren Träumen zu frequentieren.
Wir lieben Sie.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
getragen in Gary, Indiana
am 29. August 1958
ist am Frieden mit der Welt,
trotz des fortbestehenden tumult
hier auf Masse.
Wir lieben Sie.

So lang Herr. Jackson,
wohin Sie sind.
Der Moment ließ Ihre
Seele Ihren Körper
und geht für den Kosmos
mit der Lichtgeschwindigkeit,
Ihre earthly Ungewißheiten,
Exzenterlebensstil,
seltsamer Zerfall,
Angst,
Dollarschulden, Gesetzklagen,
der 100.000 Dollarschein
für Verordnungdrogen
von einem Beverly Hills Apothecary,
wurde plötzlich eine Sache der Vergangenheit voran.

Welches Remains der Schlag, Traurigkeit, Gedächtnisse
Ihres stattlichen Gesichtes sind,
ruinierten durch Schönheitsoperation.
Was wir in unseren Gedächtnissen sind
Ihr moonwalk, Catchy
Rhythmen, Schlag
schätzen und aufspalten-zweites TIMING
, wie Sie tanzten, sang und thrilled uns.
Ihre vorzügliche Stimme und frequentierenden Lyriken:
Ich bin dort,
Billie Jean,
schwarz, oder weiß,
schlecht, der Thriller,
gefährlich, Geschichte,
heilen Sie die Welt.

Wenn Elvis das erste Weiß war,
das singen könnte und seine
sich Hüften wie ein Schwarzes dreht,
zeigten Sie die Welt:
Es machte nicht aus,
wenn Sie schwarz oder Weiß sind.
Sie waren der globale Künstler
par excellence,
mit einer großen Seele.
Wir lieben Sie für es.

Wir schauten vorwärts zu
diesem sind es in London,
aber es war nicht zu sein.
Ihre globalen Ventilatoren
Mond-gehen
zu Ihrem ansteckenden Rhythmus
in Paris, London, Deutschland,
A Gefängnis `Thriller' Tanz
in einem Gefängnis in Cebu.
Madame Tussaud hat heraus ein
Jacko im Wachs
am Brandenburger Gatter in Berlin, mit
einem Beileidbuch geholt.
Wir vermissen Sie.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into Portuguese thanks to WorldLingo
Nós amamo-lo, Sr. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

seu longing para seu console mythical:
Neverland,
começado o melhor de você.
Nós ouvimos ainda sua voz lançada elevada
assombrar-nos em nossos sonhos.
Nós amamo-lo.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
carregado em Gary, Indiana
agosto em 29, 1958
está na paz com o mundo,
apesar do tumult persistindo
aqui na terra.
Nós amamo-lo.

Assim por muito tempo Sr. Jackson
onde quer que você é.
O momento sua alma
deixou seu corpo
e dirige-o para o cosmos
na velocidade de luz,
suas incertezas earthly,
lifestyle excêntrico,
disintegration Bizarre,
Angst,
débitos do dólar, ternos da lei,
a conta de dólar 100.000
para drogas da prescrição
de um apothecary do monte de Beverly,
transformou-se de repente uma coisa do passado.

Que remains é o choque, sadness,
memórias de sua cara considerável,
arruinou pela cirurgia plástica.
O que nós estimamos em nossas memórias
somos seu moonwalk,
ritmos Catchy,
batida e o rach-segundo sincronismo
como você dançou, cantou-nos e excitou-.
Seus voz exquisite e lyrics assombrando:
Eu estarei lá,
Billie Jean,
preto ou branco,
mau, Thriller,
perigoso, história,
Heal o mundo.

Se Elvis fosse o primeiro branco
que poderia cantar e gira sobre um eixo
seus hips como um preto,
você mostrou o mundo:
Não importou
se você fosse preto ou branco.
Você era o excellence global
do Par do artista,
com uma alma grande.
Nós amamo-lo para ele.

Nós olhamos para a frente
a este somos ele em Londres,
mas não era ser.
Seus ventiladores globais
lua-estão andando
a seu ritmo infectious
em Paris, Londres, Germany,
dança do Thriller do `do jailhouse de A'
em uma prisão em Cebu.
O Madame Tussaud trouxe para fora
um Jacko na cera
na porta de Brandenburger em Berlim,
com um livro do condolence.
Nós faltamo-lo.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into Swedish thanks to WorldLingo
Vi älskar dig, Herr Jackson (Satis Shroff)

din längtan för din mytiska ö:
Neverland som
fås det bättre av dig.
Vi stillar hör din kick som kastas för att uttrycka
att spöka oss i våra drömmar.
Vi älskar dig.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
bördiga Gary, Indiana
på Augusti 29, 1958
är på fred med världen,
illvilja den framhärdande tumulten
här på jord.
Vi älskar dig.

Så long Herr Jackson,
Wherever du är.
Ögonblicket som din soul
lämnade ditt för att förkroppsliga,
och hövdat för kosmoset
på som rusas av ljust,
dina jordiska osäkerheter,
den excentriska livsstilen,
bisarr nedbrytning,
ångesten,
dollarskulder, lag passar,
den 100.000 dollar räkningen
för receptdroger
från en Beverly kullapothecary,
blev plötsligt ett ting av förflutnan.

Vilken remains är, vänder mot fördärvade chocka,
sorgsenheten, minnen av ditt stiligt
, vid plastikkirurgi.
Vad vi cherish i våra minnen,
är din moonwalk,
Catchy rytmer,
takt och på en bråkdel av en sekund tajming,
som du dansade, sjöng och hänförde oss.
Ditt utsökt uttrycker och spöka lyrisk dikt:
Jag ska är där,
Billie Jean,
svart, eller vit,
dåligan, thriller som
är farlig, historia,
läker världen.

Om Elvis var den första viten
som kunde sjunga och snurrar
hans höftnågot liknande en svart,
visade du världen:
Det betydde inte,
om du är svart eller vit.
Du var den globala konstnär
Parutmärktheten,
med en stor soul.
Vi älskar dig för det.

Vi såg till denna
är framåtriktat det i London,
men den var inte att vara.
Ditt globalt fläktar
moon-går
till din smittsamma rytm
i Paris, London, Tysklandet,
dans för thriller för a-jailhouse`'
i ett fängelse i Cebu.
Madamen Tussaud har kommit med ut
en Jacko vaxar in
på Brandenburgeren utfärda utegångsförbud för i Berlin,
med en beklagande bokar.
Vi missa dig.

Adieu Майкл Джексон
Automatically translated into Russian thanks to WorldLingo
Мы любим вас, га-н. Джексон (Satis Shroff)

ваш longing для вашего мифического острова:
Neverland,
полученное лучшее вас.
Мы все еще слышим, что ваш высокий сооруженный голос
Haunting мы в наших сновидениях.
Мы любим вас.

Майкл Иосиф Джексон,
рожденное в Гэри, Индиане
29-ого августа 1958
на мире с миром,
несмотря на упорствуя tumult
здесь на земле.
Мы любим вас.

Настолько длинний г-н. Джексон
Wherever вы.
Момент ваша душа
оставила ваше тело
и возглавила для космоса
на скорости света,
ваших earthly неопределенностях,
ексцентрическом lifestyle,
Bizarre развале,
Angst,
задолженностях доллара, костюмах закона,
счете доллара 100.000
для снадобиь рецепта
от холма Беверли apothecary,
неожиданно стала вещью прошлого.

Что остаток будет ударом, тоскливостью,
памятями вашей handsome стороны,
загубило пластичной хирургией.
Мы лелеяем в наших памятях
будем вашим moonwalk,
Catchy ритмы,
удар и разделять-второе время
по мере того как вы станцевали, спело и thrilled мы.
Ваши восхитительный голос и haunting lyrics:
Я буду там,
Билли Джин,
черно или бело,
плохое, Thriller,
опасный, история,
излечите мир.

Если Elvis было первой белизной, то
смогла спеть и поворачивает на шарнирах
его вальмы как чернота,
вы показали мир:
Оно не имело значение
если вы будете черны или белизн.
Вы были глобальный художником
par excellence,
с большой душой.
Мы любим вас для его.

Мы посмотрели вперед к
этому будем им в лондоне,
но оно должно не было быть.
Ваши глобальные вентиляторы
лун-гуляют
к вашему заразному ритму
в Paris, лондоне, Германии,
танцульке Thriller `jailhouse a'
в тюрьме в Cebu.
Madame Tussaud приносило вне
Jacko в воске
на строб Brandenburger в Berlin,
с книгой соболезнования.
Мы пропускаем вас.

Adieu Michael Jackson
Automatically translated into Dutch thanks to WorldLingo
Wij houden van u, M. Jackson (Satis Shroff)

Uw het longing voor uw mythisch eiland:
Neverland,
kreeg beter van u.
Wij horen nog uw hoge stem
achtervolgend ons in onze dromen.
Wij houden van u.

Michael Joseph Jackson,
Geboren in Gary, Indiana
op 29 Augustus, 1958
is bij vrede met de wereld,
ondanks voortdurende tumult
hier ter wereld.
Wij houden van u.

Zo lange M. Jackson
waar u bent.
Het ogenblik verliet uw
ziel uw lichaam
en leidde voor de kosmos
bij de snelheid van licht,
Uw aardse onzekerheden,
Zonderlinge levensstijl,
Bizarre desintegratie,
Angst,
de schulden van de Dollar, wetskostuums,
de 100.000 dollarrekening
voor voorschriftdrugs
van apothecary van Beverly Hill,
plotseling werd een ding van het verleden.

Welke overblijfselen de schok, droefheid, Geheugen
van uw knap gezicht zijn,
dat door plastic chirurgie wordt geruïneerd.
Wat wij in ons geheugen koesteren
zijn uw moonwalk,
Boeiende ritmen,
slaan en split-second timing
aangezien u danste, zong en wond ons op.
Uw uitstekende stem en het achtervolgen van lyrische gedichten:
Ik zal daar, Billie
Slecht Jean Zwart
of Wit zijn
, Gevaarlijke Thriller
, Geschiedenis,
de Wereld helen.

Als Elvis was eerste witte
kon Who Zijn heupen
zoals een zwarte zingen en draaien,
toonde u de wereld:
Het was niet van belang
als u Zwart of Wit bent.
U was bij uitstek de globale
kunstenaar,
met een grote ziel.
Wij houden van u voor het.

Wij keken vooruit aan
dit zijn het in Londen,
maar het moest niet zijn.
Uw globale fans
maan-lopen
aan uw besmettelijk ritme
in Parijs, Londen, Duitsland,
de dans van de jailhouse`Thriller van A'
in een gevangenis in Cebu.
Mevrouw Tussaud heeft een
Jacko in was bij
de poort Brandenburger in Berlijn, met
een deelnemingsboek uitgebracht.
Wij missen u.

[أدييو] مايكل جاكسون
Automatically translated into Arabic thanks to WorldLingo
نحن نحبّ أنت, [مر.]. جاكسون ([ستيس] [شروفّ])

شوقك لجزيرتك [مثيكل]:
[نفرلند],
يحصل الجيّدة من أنت.
نحن بعد نسمع صوتك
[هي بيتشد] يلازمنا في حلمنا.
نحن نحبّ أنت.

مايكل [جوسف] جاكسون,
[بورن] في غاري, إنديانا
في أغسطس - آب 29, 1958
في سلام مع العالم,
على الرغم من ال على ثابر حالة شغب
هنا على أرض.
نحن نحبّ أنت.

هكذا طويلا [مر.]. جاكسون
أينما أنت.
العزم ترك روحك
جسمك
و [هدد] للكون
في ال [سبيد وف ليغت],
شكوكك أرضيّة,
أسلوب حياة شاذّة,
إنحلال غريبة,
[أنغست],
دولار أديان, قانون دعاوي,
ال 100,000 فاتورة بالدولار
لوصف عقارات
من [بفرلي هيلّ] صيدلية,
فجأة أصبح شيء من الماض.

ما أثر يكون الصدمة, حزن,
ذاكرات من ك يهيأ وجه,
دمّر ب [بلستيك سورجري].
ماذا نحن ندلّ في ذاكراتنا
يكون [موونولك] ك,
إيقاعات جذّابة,
نبض وغنّى [سبليت-سكند] توقيت
بما أنّ أنت رقصت, وأثار نا.
ك بديعة صوة ويلازم [لريكس]:
شفيت أنا سأكون هناك,
[بيلّي] جان,
سوداء أو بيضاء,
سيّئة, أفلام الرّعب,
خطرة, تاريخ,
العالم.

إن [إلفيس] كان الأبيض
أولى الذي استطاع غنّيت ويدوّر
أوراكه مثل أسود,
أبدى أنت العالم:
هو لم يهمّ
إن أنت تكون سوداء أو أبيض.
أنت كنت الفنانة
شاملة [بر إكسسلّنس],
مع روح عظيمة.
نحن نحبّ أنت ل هو.

نحن نظرنا إلى الأمام إلى
هذا هو في لندن,
غير أنّ [ب] هو لم أن يكون.
[موون-ولكينغ]
مراوحك
شاملة إلى إيقاعك
معدّة في باريس, لندن, ألمانيا,
[ا] [جيلهووس] `أفلام الرّعب' رقص
في سجن في سيبو.
قد أحضر سيدة [تثسّود] خارجا
[جكو] في شمع
في [برندنبورجر] بوابة في برلين,
مع تعزية كتاب.
نحن نفتقد أنت.