In a village In a country there once was a farm
Of gray netted, old wood,
Which shone with warmth when it dawned to spring,
And the ground threw its snow.
That honey and wine did not abound there,
And there was no gold, no silk and linen,
But of happiness, there was enough to see.
One cannot say that they lived in want ,
However, it was a poor place.
Because they had to fight for their daily bread,
Then they had love.
There they found their security and reason for life,
Of happiness and love, husband and wife,
When they often toiled in the field.
Thus passed a few years of life In peace
In a beautiful, sunny land
Thus wild they and live the years away,
Happiness was bread and water.
But fate did not wish them that way,
For in the distance the roar of war was heard.
Above the hill stood the kingdom I fire.
Then a shadow fell over the hill and the forest;
The sun disappeared behind a cloud.
Then the two stopped behind the horse and the plough,
And sought shelter from the darkness.< br/>And the thunder roared, the sky rattled,
Of war and death the thunder foretold.
The darkness swallowed the dawn.
Then a rider comes to the farm with a message,
Through gloomy thunderstorm;
The sky carries its hellish bride,
Breaks mountains and splinters trees.
When the bid departs and happiness is broken;
The man is neither asked nor bid,
Written in the army of the kingdom.
One morning when the sky turns gray towards autumn,
And the sun is low over the mountains,
He gives his wife and children a last consolation,
To ease a sorrow in himself himself.
He strides to his horse dressed in armor and black,
And in silence he rides slowly away,
Without words, a silent last farewell.

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