The Hitler press seems a bit nervous
They’ve already covered up too much
And now Boris died mysteriously
And they must conceal it.
I don’t know if poison or a shot
Took his life away,
In any case, there was much trouble,
Otherwise, he would have remained.
Very depressed, friend Adolf thinks:
„Benito and now Boris!“
I believe he can’t take this
Wave of misfortune anymore.
He sits huddled up
Full of dark thoughts,
It is a black year of misfortune,
Much can still be expected!
In Sofia, his friend Filof
Is tasked with German affairs,
And he must, that’s a big thing,
Make a child a king.
This Filof is no philosopher,
He is filo-fascistic,
He is complicit in murder and plunder,
And anti-bolshevistic.
And the Bulgarian freedom hero
Was driven out and banished,
A fighter against brutal violence,
Role model for all men.
In Moscow, he sighs as an exile,
Thinking of his Balkan country,
And yet he sees his chance,
What’s happening there?
He knows that Hitler lost,
And Filof will disappear.
His ear hears the sound of liberation,
A new sun will shine!
There will come a day, then it will end,
The last descendant of the Tsars,
And on that day, the greatest of Bulgarians
Will come to power.
Post-Editing: Daniel Green
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