Our eagle is red
As the bark of the pine
Or more like the forest fire?
For Prussians and Nazis the forest was only
Scenery for the hunt and a source of timber
You can still see their ghost between the trees
Which are planted in rows, looking like soldiers
Brown grass, grey moss
No bird sings in the desert
We are still sawing up our future
Who should oversee the guards of the forest?
The rain disappears
The Sun burns the soil
Mankind dies with the plantations
We will only survive with natural forest
The Seed drops, the seedling grows
Now I can see the green there, ô ô
Take a handful of the soil
Thank the worms and the fungi!
I’m dancing with the wolf, my brother
Spinning around with the beautiful butterflies
Everyone can satisfy their thrist
In the shadow of the leaves
All diversity shall be praised!
The woodpecker beats his drum with force
In the treetop the blackbird sings the melody
And from the bog rises the choir of the frogs