Sacred crosses do not adorn common graves
Nor do widows sob there in despair
Only flower bouquets to the passerby wave
An eternal fire burns through the air.

Here, where the Earth used to rear on its legs
Now cold slabs of granite lie still
Here, not a soul lived a personal life
Lives melted together with skill.

In the eternal fire: a tank is ablaze
Russian huts are devoured by flames
Both Smolensk and the Reichstag ash to the ground
And a soldier’s heart sears with his aims.

Widows tears do not wash over these common graves
The strong-willed come here and the steely
Sacred crosses do not adorn common graves
But the soul does not breathe more freely!