From a village over the hills to the south
His bicycle covered with grime from the ride
The seller of chestnuts arrives in the town
And dismounts; he unfastens his sack on the square:
Chestnuts for roasting! he shouts. The crowd
Is excited; speakers are playing the music of Wagner.
Gestapo are marching an old man away. It looks like
The priest, he hears someone say. There's a roar
From the crowd, and from the high windows paper rains down
In a Gothic script strange to his eye. What does it mean?
He yells to a girl with a sheet. The youngster comes near:
Our Führer is winning in Russia! she screams.