Let the deep murmur of the wind caress it in the night;
And if above my lonely cross it stay its restless flight,
’T will breathe a prayer of peace and chant a canticle of grace.
Oh, let the rain rise pure to heav’n beneath the sun’s hot rays
And carry to the throne of God my loving, last request.
Let friendly souls weep for my end, and in the after days,
On evenings clear, when o’er my tomb some gentle being prays,
Pray also thou, O Fatherland, for my eternal rest.
Pray for all those who died alone, betrayed, in wretchedness.
For those who suffered for thy sake torments and misery,