What pretty people are usually called Lyrics

Look! Now we are back here

I believe that you will not be able to complain about my transportation

What is it worth caring about

What death says? He never came

Here within the gate, he does not know

About our arrangement the slightest message

On earth he learned the stupid talk

Which smells of bourgeois tea and tobacco

No, trust my word as if it were a fact

I never break the given pact

Now just be calm, it has no need

But since no preface was tired

Let me tell you something that I forgot a while ago

You now get board and lodging and light

And fuel and washing and all kinds of journals

And a place in the theater once a week

And other things that one is addicted to

And for all this you pay nothing

In return for this, they only demand

That you should work on tour

The labor shall not make you sour

The good citizen moreover consumes

Not like a cliff on the state's grain

He despises the horns of plenty

He will not feed and clothe freely

And go to comedy often for free

But he sacrifices his work and his sweat

To atone for the state's misery

No, nothing of the kind

But our state has one thing in common

Which must be attained by the industry of all

I doubt not that you have heard

Of the great vessel of the Danaids

It is a wash-vessel, terribly large

As was made in the first times of the world

But that cooper has been a real dog

For he made the vessel bottomless

Now our whole endeavor is, with water

To fill it to the very top

But once a clever head calculated

That only by the diligence of an infinite number

Can it be filled in an infinite time

Thus is our whole purpose indicated

And therefore every woman or man

In turn must pour into it his bucket

Where do you want to go!

I will not speak at all, my dear friend

Of the half-hundred princesses' hands

Even multiplied by two

To speak correctly, which our work pays homage

And in eight thousand years fills the vessel

But you will find here Professors

Masters, Licentiates, Doctors

In every profession the most writers

Poets by the thousands, Reviewers

And writers of fiction, a multitude of students

Who have even performed at fine balls

And played comedy tolerably well

In short, persons of every age

Every class, every sex, and for that only

What pretty people are usually called

It is a company that truly him

Who joins it, does not do shame

And be quiet! listen! You hear a song

Which sounds loud over town and city

It is from the place where the vessel stands

That the sound reaches your ear

Danaids it is, who are stirred to sing

To them the rest of the group joins

You notice that the work does them no harm

Since by song they perform their Don't

Well, my friend, I say, Top

And now go up the street

Then the many objects will show themselves

As recently you heard me praise

A little while you must stay alone

I cannot stay here any longer

I must go and greet other souls

Whose dense flocks are pressing towards the gate

I am so

Mmmmmmmmm