Everyone tells of their worries
Asking for understanding
He who tells of his joy
Doesn’t understand those who suffered
Lord of infinite space
You who have peace there between your hands
Pour it out Lord, I beg you
And teach my brothers to love
Of what happens in the world
By God, I don’t understand it
The thistle always screaming
And the flower always quiet
Let the flower scream
And let the thistle fall silent
And all those who are my enemies
Let them be my brothers
Let’s go down that path
And see what light we can find
That light that is in the ground
And that which we have extinguished
Lord of infinite space
You who have peace there between your hands
Pour it out Lord, I beg you
And teach my brothers to love
And show them the beauty of life
And how to comfort all wounds
And how to love with pure love the entire world
And how to always search for peace Lord and to hate war
In that garden there have entered
Four men and by force
And without compassion, they have taken
The rose that I loved
And later they have maltreated it
And who can prove to me
That Christ wasn’t a gypsy
Or that he couldn’t sing
The flowers on your balcony
The flowers on your balcony
Cry to see you again, as far as I know