Far in the Champagne in midsummer green 
there where poppy flowers bloom between grave crosses 
there the grasses whisper and shake themselves effortlessly 
in the wind, which gently sweeps over the graveyard 
At your cross I find dead soldier, 
not your name, only numbers and someone has painted 
the number 1916, 
and you were not even 19 years old. 

Yes, they have also already deceived you similarly 
just as they do with us still today, 
and you have given them everything : 
your strength, your youth, your life. 

Have you dead soldier, once loved a girl? 
Surely not, because only here, where there is peace, 
could tenderness and [bad word] flourish, 
were a soldier, about to die, not be too young. 
Perhaps you thought to yourself, I will fall soon, 
I will take my pleasure, as [bad word]  with force. 
To this end you were determined, you have however then 
been ashamed of yourself and never did it. 

Yes, they have also already deceived you similarly 
just as they do with us still today, 
and you have given them everything : 
your strength, your youth, your life. 

Soldier, did you go believing and gladly to your death? 
or have you too doubtfully, bitterly, roughly 
not recognized your [bad word] enemy until the end? 
I hope it hit you a clean shot? 
Or has a bullet torn your limbs to pieces, 
have you cried out to your mother until the last, 
have you on your leg [bad word] further, 
and your grave, does it hold more than a leg, a hand? 

Yes, they have also already deceived you similarly 
just as they do with us still today, 
and you have given them everything : 
your strength, your youth, your life. 

There remained only the cross as the single trace/proof 
of your life, but hear my oath, 
to fight for peace and to be vigilant : 
If mankind once again falls for lies here 
then it [bad word] to pass, that soon no one lives anymore, 
no one, who will bury the millions of dead? 
However I find more and more people willing, 
to prevent this battle, it is time.