1st volume, no. 13, Page 10
1st volume, no. 13, Page 11

cover / introduction table of contents

Golden Mountains

The truth drives the swastika
Now mightily into a corner,
The propaganda already brings
The purest dirges.

Though bashful, they only admit
What they can no longer deny,
And the leadership still remains taboo,
But you could almost

Get an idea of the true situation
From the newspaper today,
Because despite the strictest censorship
There‘s nothing to laugh about today.

With the army, it looks sad,
Retreating in the East and the South,
Even in the Third Reich at home
The people are very dissatisfied.

Gradually, the people get too much
Of sacrificial hecatombs,
Of the nocturnal propeller game,
Of the boom of bombs.

Of wailing and cries of pain
In long nights of suffering.
The intoxication of victory is long gone
For those who once were drunk with victory.

They stand still and stand silent
By many bomb craters,
Only now do they see, they were so foolish
And have a tremendous hangover.

They have a hangover and anger
At the Nazi demagogues,
Who dragged Germany‘s people
Into this war with reckless courage.

The plight of the people grows and swells,
The lords are getting anxious.
The picture has changed thoroughly,
The war is taking too long.

The number of homeless people
Already runs into the millions.
They sit naked and sit bare,
Gone are the illusions.

And like thunder, the grumbling roars
Of the cruelly bombarded,
You hear them grunting discontentedly,
Those who have not perished until now.

And Goebbels thinks very cunningly
To lull the child to sleep again,
To again unabashedly presenting
A dream image to the people.

You, who have become poor,
You will not remain poor,
After this, glory will follow,
Too beautiful to describe.

A land of milk and honey beckons you,
A kingdom of heaven on earth,
And what is burned for you today
Will be tenfold for you then.

And he always digs up new lies
From his chest of lies,
And hopefully he thinks: Maybe it works,
And I will quiet everything down.

But Germany‘s people wake up and think:
He promised so much.
He led us into misfortune
And broke his word.

The deceitful tongue
Has sold us out and betrayed us.
We are tired of his fancy words
And want actions at last.

We see his cloven hoof,
Recognize him, the evil one,
And hope that someone will soon
Release us from his blarney.

Post-Editing: Hanny Veenendaal