There to the clang of beakers gleams the sword,
And true and steadfast in our place of meeting,
We peal aloud in song the fiery word!
Though rocks and oak trees shiver,
We, we will tremble never!
Strong like the tempest see the youths go by,
For Fatherland to combat and to die!
Red, red as true-love, be the brother token,
And pure like gold the soul within imprest,
And that in death our spirits be not broken,