At first, he wanted to sail against England
He did not dare to attempt it
That was over three years ago
And it gnawed at his heart.
It was a desperate start,
At sea, he felt weak
He so dearly wanted to conquer England
And feared the water‘s surface.
He wanted to drink his tea in London
And stroll through Downing Street
The Deutschland and Horst Wessel hymn
Should ring in the ears of Cockneys.
He dreamed of other things, too,
How the English enthusiastically
Sing „God save Adolf Hitler“
As long as they were not gassed by him.
He also dreamed of changes,
For example, at Trafalgar Square
The statue of Räder‘s should displace Nelson‘s,
And other such things.
And last but not least, the paintings
From the National Gallery
They had long inspired
Hatred, envy, and jealousy in him.
Those masters would be better off hanging
In the magnificent Obersalzberg palace.
The Führer often has a strong desire
And satisfies it at any cost.
He abandoned his plan
And did not cross the channel
He postponed his English dreams
And radically changed his direction.
He crusaded with great strength,
He crusaded with much chatter,
And outrageously big armies
against the Soviets.
He pledged to liberate
The Russians from Stalin’s yoke,
And dreamt with great joy
Of being the new ruler in the Kremlin.
He saw Cossacks dancing for him,
And heard the sound of balalaikas.
His chances of war were magnificent,
And thank God, Adolf Hitler,
He already heard himself being called “Papa Adolf”,
And tasted the flavor of vodka.
He saw triumphal arches with many flowers,
But fate played a trick on him.
His plans for Russia were thwarted,
Stalin was stronger than he thought,
And Hitler‘s arrogance was curtailed,
Because it turned out differently than expected.
His army is being pushed back,
Losing more ground every day.
And once again, new dreams
Arise in his mind.
Now he wants to fight the Britons first,
Along with the Americans.
And after a defeat of both,
He wants to return to Russia.
He begins to resemble Don Quixote,
Who fought furiously against windmills.
His windmills are three world empires,
And they will bring him to justice soon.
His time of wishful thinking is over,
How much longer will his days last?
It has turned out very differently,
For all his dreams were
deceit.
Post-Editing: Sylvia Stawski, Ernst Sittig
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