Night Voices in Tegel

Stretched out on my cot

I stare at the grey wall,

Outside, a summer evening 

That does not know me

Goes singing into the countryside.

Slowly and softly 

The tides of the day ebb

On the eternal shore...

We the poor, the rich,

Alike in misfortune,

The good, the bad,

Whatever we have been 

We men of many scars,

We the witnesses of those who died,

We the defiant, we the despondent,

The innocent, and the much accused,

Deeply tormented by long isolation,

Brother, we are searching, we are calling you!

Brother, do you hear me?

C.F: Written from a prison cell in Germany by pastor, theologian, and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.