Poets became silent,
While clowns arose and burned the books again
No thinkers daring vision grew,
Where thieves ran free and crippled human dignity
In the noise of unimportance
And stupidity the sceptic's whispers went unheard

Be sure, this storm will not drown my voice
Be sure, my hands will sow the seeds of reason
I'll never be a minor, I'll never be a happy slave

May this cold sever my face
And my the pain weaken my fists
No inner strife will touch me
The only truth is in my heart