Time flies so darn fast,
Events drive
Their capricious wonder play.
Recently the fascist’s sentence:
Yes, Eastland, we are still there
And will remain there as well.
The East awaits our culture,
We will cultivate,
We take over governance,
Even if it’s bitter for the Russians,
We help our Eastern neighbor
To cultivate the land.
For us, it’s a huge job:
The Russians are our slaves,
Whether we kick or hit them,
It really doesn’t matter,
What a wonderful existence that is
Which they gave us.
Truly, all in all,
One feels satisfied,
One almost feels like a little czar.
The Russians perform their work well,
Yet occasionally they act strangely,
What is the reason for it?
They don’t care for the new order,
They hate fascism,
They call this order old,
It seems that they don‘t trust us
And consider us oppressors
And stick to Bolshevism.
The Germans move backwards,
The new lords along with them,
They now shout less loudly,
Losing the expected booty,
The Eastland dream reached its conclusion,
Evacuation was necessary.
Many who traveled to Eastland
Had to perish there,
Their life as landowners was brief,
A partisan lay in wait,
The Eastland tour has ended,
They have stayed forever.
Post-Editing: Sylvia Stawski, Ernst Sittig
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