The good comrade

I had a comrade,

and a better one you could not find.

They beat on the drums to sound the battle,

and he went by my side

step for step at the same pace.

A bullet came flying:

was it meant for me or you?

It tore him away

and he lay at my feet

as if he were a part of me.

He wanted still to reach me his hand,

but I had to load my musket just then.

I cannot give you my hand -

may you rest in eternal peace,

my good comrade!