From all the hills on the right and left,
From German lands to the German sea,—
Thus wanders and marches the host.
What lies so still as it were the sea?
What shines so yellow as gold?
The splendid fields of the Marshes they are,
The pride of the Holsten race.
Good day, ye Holsten on German soil!
Good day, ye Friesians, on the German sea
To live and to die for German honor,—