Der Hugenottenfriedhof

Sometimes we walk twenty minutes
Not to lose the lunchtime
To the Huguenot cemetery
Just around the corner we stroll
There it smells and chirps in the middle
In the sea of houses it blooms. And after
A few familiar steps
You don't hear any street noise

We hook our hands hand in hand
And stroll to Brecht's grave
Made of gray granite, his gravestone
Fits quite well for Brecht
And next to him lies Helene
The great Weigel rests
From all the theater playing
And cooking and washing at home
Then we rejoice and continue walking
And still think while giving kisses:
How close some dead are to us, yet
How dead some are to us, who live

We meet the ancient old woman
Who rakes here and plants there and does
And when she sees us both coming
Then she waves us over and laughs
The old lady tells us about the Eighteenth
November Revolution:
"Here Spartacists shot each other
With Imperialists who fled!

Karl Liebknecht and Luxemburg Rosa
- that's how it must go for people! -
Alive and beaten to death
I have seen them both! When I was still a young thing
- I am already too old! -
From here to Friedrichstrasse
Everything was still dense forest!"
Then we rejoice and continue walking...

There are all kinds of important people lying there
And also many small people
There are giant plane trees standing
That pleases the eyes
We also walk over to Hegel
And then visit right nearby
Hanns Eisler, Wolf Langhoff. John Heartfield
Lives right in the neighboring row

You can read about Becher there
A whole poem beautifully in stone
The pretty sandstone there
I believe it will be more durable
The sun stands steep in the bushes
The sparrows chase wildly
We hold on tight and dance
Through this green picture
Then we rejoice and continue walking