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