The brittle truth, of, our Aryan bones
Bares Führer, who, force-fed us, lies
In the farm, of fear, yearn our tombstones
To sing, to us, life’s, last lullabies!
How Führer, gambles, with our lives
Are we, his pawns, or his puppets
Let’s hope, our German, dream survives
Wild ambitions, his pride, begets!
Vain widows, seems, white wilderness
Mourning deaths, of, martyred husbands
Couldn’t care, less, our Führer, reckless
Who doomed, us to, Stalin’s quicksands!
He crucified, us, no less, than Jews
Betrayed, our faiths, Messiah, mad
Our God, turned out, to be, Satan’s muse
For Whom, We Died, In Stalingrad!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra