In the preface to Till's reprint of Father Werner Lindemann's book, "Mike Oldfield in a Rocking Chair," he wrote: "Life does not bind father and son with a rope, They must swim along the river of time And often drown, As happened to the two royal children." This short poem refers to a German folk ballad in which the conflict between generations is the ideological key point.
The relationship between son and father was undoubtedly complex, especially since Till's period of growing up coincided with radical changes in social life, which further exacerbated certain contradictions between them.
In the afterword to the publication, Till writes: "He has a job, he even has a car, he has music, he has a girlfriend – and at his age I was lying in the trenches... It was always presented to me like that. He regularly made me feel guilty, at the very least, he put himself on a pedestal in relation to me: I shouldn't complain."
Disputes about the war, the premonition of the collapse of the socialist system, the new wave in culture, including music, created the ground for conflict, but after reading this book, you understand that the father values Till and deeply experiences the difficulties of their relationship.
Gitta Lindemann later said that if Werner had not died in 1993, a closer relationship would have developed between him and Till, and this is proven by the fact that Till nevertheless republished the book, which at first caused him outrage.
"I found this extremely unpleasant. I saw it as a close examination of my life. And he just laid it out without asking me. He could have at least shown it to me beforehand. He simply presented me with a fait accompli, of course, it was outrageous."
"I first read it properly in 1993, after my father's death. Even then, I found it all rather unfair. I still thought it was nothing but hidden malice directed at me. Only now, on the occasion of this reprint, have I truly read it consciously and intensively, with a desire to understand and open up to the book."
It is quite natural that in his collection of poems, “On a Quiet Night,” Till touchingly recalls his father.
Tag für Tag und Stund um Stunde
fließt dein Blut durch meine Venen
verdünnt mit Angst und kalten Tränen
Du treibst in deiner Einsamkeit
Und rufst mir Worte in den Wind
Hab deine Augen im Gesicht
trag dein Blut mit mir umher
Du treibst in deiner Einsamkeit
nachts im Traum stehst du vor mir
du tust mir nicht mehr weh
Day after day and hour after hour
Your blood flows in my veins
In minutes, seconds of happiness
You dissolve the anxiety of the cold of tears
You drive away your loneliness with force
You go alone into the open sea
You shout to me the words you want to say something
But I don't hear them through the wind and rain
Where are you?.. My eyes are yours, my face is yours
I know youI don't know you
Your blood rushes into my ardent heart
You drive away your loneliness with force
You go alone into the open sea
At night in my dreams you come to me again
You don't hurt me like you hurt me during the day...
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