They put their flowers every May
Early in the morning
To brothers’ grave, where, day by day
Eternal fire is burning.

The roof of Reichstag burns again,
And gates to hell are opened,
And soldiers’ hearts consumed by flame
Are buried under concrete.

The fire covered them before,
And now so does the tombs,
Their private destinies no more
Are anything, but words.

The lonely widow passes by,
The cemetery’s empty.
Nobody’s here to stand and cry,
And maybe that is better.