In the evening we read the newspapers
About what happenend on the front:
Hundreds fallen in combat
Thousands more wounded.
So many children without their father
So many mothers without their child.
And we ask ourselves when
will the slaughter end.

But in the morning - oh what a joy,
We read the morning newspapers:
About a banquet in one of the larger capitals
Where '* made a toast
To the prosperity of his country.
Where the war was won
With a wineglass in his hand!

In the evening we read the newspapers:
Yet another ship torpedoed.
So many men put to sea
So few but did return.
So many tons of grain lost
So many mouths without bread.
So many women, so many children
Closer to death from starvation.

But in the morning - what a joy,
We read the morning papers:
Of a rich and stately banquet
In one of the larger capitals.
Where ...* made a toast
To his famished country
And praised ...*
With a wineglass in his hand!

Every day new misery,
new poverty, new mourning
Every day our trust in humankind
Catches a blow.
In fear we ask ourselves
How much longer this rage of war must go on
Which of Satan's ambassadors
Is governing our world?

Gravely the diplomats set off,
To their feast and banquet.
Satan put himself as pourer
At the head of the table
Where he fills with a grinn,
Each time to the brim
With the red blood of mankind
The willing wineglasses in their hands!