We greet you from deep silence,
Which is like a pond full of water lilies,
Hushed is the nightingale and the frog and the cricket,
Where all move as Spirits, weightless.
And there is a gliding of white lights,
When we fly through the fog in the nights.
We see you with vitreous faces
lying like the dead in your beds.
We greet you. In forgotten life
Where day calls you back, again like new.
without memory, without remorse.
Eberhard Wolfgang Moller, translated into English by Hermitage Helm and published in Songs Of The Reich.