Vaterhaus

There, by the distant Volga river stands my German father's house, where as a child I once lived, now strangers come and go. My cradle was safely nestled in the house on the Volga shore. Mother bore all the worries alone, since father was banished. Every room, every nook in the house was familiar to me. In the yard through many a loophole, I often ran through.

It rushes and flows in Russia's vastness - Russia, you have seen much. Volga Germans were allowed to walk and then silently disappear.

But then came the day of sorrow and they drove us out of the house. Every wall, room, and chamber I kissed weeping, without a word. As we left the gate, I looked back one more time. Picked up a stone from the homeland soil, pressed it to my mouth, sadly we walked the streets of our hometown. Where we sat on Sunday evenings - solemnly at the sound of the bells...

It rushes and flows in Russia's vastness - Russia, you have seen much. Volga Germans were allowed to walk and then silently disappear.

Downstream our journey went on the Volga river. The old tune sounded sadly: 'Say hello to my father's house one more time!' Far banished in the Taiga forests, behind barbed wire and fence, when I fell asleep hungry - I saw this house in my dreams. And I can't forget it, this house on the Volga shore, where the fathers once sat and cultivated this land...

It rushes and flows in Russia's vastness - Russia, you have seen much. Volga Germans were allowed to walk and then silently disappear.

Innocently we were driven away - Many had to perish! Those who remained alive wanted to walk to Germany on foot, to Germany.