Young foreign soldier, evening approaches
The prisoner will come from his dark cell and kill you
Prisoners go dangerous in chains in their homeland
His knife will sink into you, poor bastard soldier
Do you ever remember home? Do the tears ever flow?
Do you sing sentimental songs of your countryside?
Are the fields forever green there, flowers grow there freely?
Can you hear blackbirds? Young soldier, the prisoner once heard them
Young foreign soldier, the path by the barley field
The gate to the garden, the girl in the pinafore
The big bed at daybreak, where the children crept in to you
The path by the barley field, poor bastard soldier
Remember what you did at night time, the happy whispering in the darkness
Are there some good words for love in your language?
Did you promise to be true to her? Swear everlastingly
To never ever love another one? Young soldier, the prisoner will never ever...
Young foreign soldier, have you seen dead children?
The fragile legs open, the bright bird escaping
Mouths pale with questions, the white eyes still fearful
Yes you have seen children, poor bastard soldier
If the gasping mouths were yours, if you recognised the pretty necks
As those you had shaped with your kindest caressing
Would you not gouge eyes, curse every Jesus Christ?
Would you not scream? Young soldier, the prisoner has done so
The path by the barley field, the gate to your garden
The girl in the pinafore, the big bed at daybreak
Evening approaches, the knife will sink into you
Poor bastard soldier, poor bastard prisoner
The prisoner will come from his dark cell and kill you
Prisoners go dangerous in chains in their homeland
His knife will sink into you, poor bastard soldier
Do you ever remember home? Do the tears ever flow?
Do you sing sentimental songs of your countryside?
Are the fields forever green there, flowers grow there freely?
Can you hear blackbirds? Young soldier, the prisoner once heard them
Young foreign soldier, the path by the barley field
The gate to the garden, the girl in the pinafore
The big bed at daybreak, where the children crept in to you
The path by the barley field, poor bastard soldier
Remember what you did at night time, the happy whispering in the darkness
Are there some good words for love in your language?
Did you promise to be true to her? Swear everlastingly
To never ever love another one? Young soldier, the prisoner will never ever...
Young foreign soldier, have you seen dead children?
The fragile legs open, the bright bird escaping
Mouths pale with questions, the white eyes still fearful
Yes you have seen children, poor bastard soldier
If the gasping mouths were yours, if you recognised the pretty necks
As those you had shaped with your kindest caressing
Would you not gouge eyes, curse every Jesus Christ?
Would you not scream? Young soldier, the prisoner has done so
The path by the barley field, the gate to your garden
The girl in the pinafore, the big bed at daybreak
Evening approaches, the knife will sink into you
Poor bastard soldier, poor bastard prisoner
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