Here rest princes and sword-felled warriors!
In a sweeping field stands proudly
the poplar trees that stretch mightily.
I am drawn to the bloodstone, to the altar.
/>This is the majesty we fear.
The great shadows attack me.
The element, the storm is caught here,
The passion of the light seems terrible.< br/>There are dark flags swinging on the lawn,
that have long since flown over the heads of the fighters.
And torches that we have long forgotten are burning:
Daylilies haunt on the graves bed.
And grave after grave stacked in silent flight,
marked narrowly by the cross's shadow mark.
Erected in the deep ground towards heaven,
man's merciless torture stake.
Turning its face, it doesn't let me flee:
the roar of an eternal journey
takes my breath away, old gods pull at my heart with wild lust Strength.
They choose me and never want to give up,
The dead, whose life fills me.
Whoever is their blood must turn pale!
Whoever carries homeland, is enveloped here by God.
Here blows the spirit of the fighters and the victors,
Here blows the young breath of life.
Here lie men, comrades, warriors,
who are the silent rulers of the century!
Here blows the spirit of the fighters and the victors,
Here blows the young breath of life.
Here lie men, comrades, warriors,< br/>who are the silent rulers of the century!