Hildegard Knef, In dieser Stadt, 1966 ///
Empty, colorful cigarette boxes / and crumpled butter bread paper / on the way to school, that we daily went, / I see it before my eyes, like it was today; / and we picked from the patch in front of the station / the birthday bouquet for our mothers: / In this town I know myself, / In this town I was once at home; / How does the town look like today? / In this town I was once at home.
Between two darkened lanterns / stood a bench, my first time, his name was Fritz / I would learn kissing from him gladly / but his kiss was a joke / mornings brooding over dreary windows / I knew one thing: I will get out! / In this town I know myself / In this town I was once at home
How does the city look like today? / In this town I was once at home / One morning I was standing at the platform, / On the rail track to the big world, / And suddenly I knew at the platform, / That there is nothing to keep me in this town anymore. / Today, after alone, weeping nights / I couldn’t stand this homesickness anymore:
In this town I know myself, / In this town I was once at home; / How does the town look today? / In this town I was once at home.