Six, seven generations have
passed before us.
Sturdy stood the fathers and built their homes.
They have cleared the land and done their daily
work,
Waded through swamps and always stood by their man.
They slowly spilled their own blood;
Then their sons grew well spiritually from it.
They were the slaves of their own and foreign
masters,
And they still showed they were a strong and pure generation.
And they died in a gloomy state,
Which also counted the children and grandchildren.
And could be satisfied to the side seen,
And wait for a wave to continue on...
So six, seven generations passed by,
And the time howled through a worldwide cry.
The best have been counted out from the
balls,
Because the victims always elected the best.
And today the great duty is forgotten,
And all these victims are not taken into consideration!
You wait for blessings - which come to you slowly
-
You weak Swabian folk - reflect!!!
