I fell beside him — his body taut,
tight as a string just before it snaps,
shot in the back of the head. 
 
“This is how you’ll end too; just lie quietly here,” 
I whispered to myself, patience blossoming into death.
 
“Der springt noch auf,”* the voice above me said
through caked mud and blood congealing in my ear.

*”Der springt
noch auf” means something like “That one is still jumping.”