When your mother has grown older and you have grown older,
When what was formerly easy and effortless becomes a burden,
When her dear loyal eyes do not look out into life as before,
When her legs have grown tired and do not want to carry her any more,
Then give her your arm for support, accompany her with gladness and joy,
The hour will come, weeping, when you accompany her on her last journey;
And if she asks you always answer her, and if she asks again speak also,
And if she asks another time speak to her not stormily but in gentle peace,
And if she cannot understand you well explain everything joyfully,
Because the hour will come, the bitter hour, when her mouth will ask no more.
(Poem translated from German and written by Adolf Hitler in 1923)
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