The Privileged

Everything is terribly relative,
Madmen in their asylums
Mostly think with heavy grief
That others are insane and themselves are enlightened.

The monkeys in their cages at the Artis,
When they see us peering through their bars,
They do not find us particularly beautiful,
And say to themselves, what kind of monkeys are those?

A Nazi writes from the Eastern Front,
We are surely to be envied,
And the Netherlands is not in good health,
That they don’t wish to commit to our system.

We have Führer and ideals,
For which we fight at home and on the front,
A worldview like out of steel,
That will prepare the country for a new future.

What does he got, the one with that black face,
Passively observing the new era,
Joyfully we do our duty,
We do our duty with pen and sword and spade.

And when this little work is done,
Then the others will surely be sorry
That when it was not yet finished,
They did not already advocate NSB principles.

But we are surely doing well,
There is nothing left for us to wish for,
And I immediately say with a joy,
We are truly privileged people.

Yes, my friend, the job is getting done,
But differently to what you expected,
The freedom that you have trampled,
Tramples you with unprecedented power.

You are premature, young prig,
Would you just look a bit further,
Then the fate you yearn for
Would certainly no longer seem so “privileged”.