We were born in the cruel Orient,
Puranas were our romances as such.
In the East every swan is a condor,
On every worm there is Narayana's touch.

We stride under the banner of Zoroaster,
We are long-expectant Saoshyant's parents,
Gotama allotted us alabaster,
Sage Mani presented with earthen ware.

We got life for a new one to be given us,
In the East there's Christening, no dreaming,
There is no guilt in the East but forgiveness,
In the East there are seas for drinking.

We are tall gods with high cheek-bones,
We are Genghis Khan's great sons and daughters.
Before us there are barrows in infinite rows.
Before us ways are full and utter.

There is Altai behind Tibet, and behind Pamirs
There are the Caucasus, Carpathians and Pyrenees…
Over the peoples, over the lands, over the seas
The black-white-red banner menacingly streams.

Reach your hands out to spheres which are permanent,
Recalling the island that was sunken and lost…
But the fate today is found in the Orient -
Die Atlantieker marschieren nach Osten!