My Papa’s Waltz, as translated to German by Babel Fish, and subsequently translated back to English.

the whisky on your breath 

could educate a small boy dizzy; 

But I hung on like death: 

Such waltzing was not simple. 

We romped to the tubs 

pushed by the kitchen shelf; 

My mother’s support 

could not unfrown. 

The hand, which held my wrist, 

was smashed on a Knöchel; 

At each step you missed 

my right ear rubbed a curvature. 

They struck time on my head 

if a palm strongly by the dirt bonded together, 

then away waltzed me, around to bed

to go still, adhering your shirt.

-S.S.