Others, who did not love this country as much,
were willing to leave from the beginning;
they - some have already left - are feeling better,
but I would have to unearth my roots
with my own knife from this soil.
I haven't slept a single night since then,
and I feel an utmost hurting sadness;
many weeks have since passed,
all strength has left me long since,
and I have a feeling as if I was bleeding to death.
But still I would have to fly away,
and if it was only to remain the person I was.
I can never thrive again, where I am now;
outside in fact I wouldn't have to cry out loud,
because my softspoken word was always true.
Like in old days I'd be certain of it;
turned sobbingly against me,
I would just have to tell myself, day and night,
to tear myself out with all my roots
and to plant myself in another country.