Russia 1944, and we Romanians fight,
Alongside the Nazi death machine.
There's so very little that they know,
Of places been and things I've seen..
My name is not of worthy significance,
But my Master's I say with utmost pride.
It was He who saved me 200 years ago,
That long dark day on which I died.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem