The real Lili Marleen

Another missed anniversary on this blog, but only a year out this time: a hundred and one years ago, in the night between 3 and 4 April 1915, at the beginning of the First World War, a soldier on sentry duty at a barracks in Berlin wrote a poem of three verses about a soldier meeting his girl by the street lamp in front of the barracks.

That soldier was the German poet Hans Leip (1893-1983), who was just about to be sent to the eastern front. He survived the war and more than twenty years later added two more verses before publishing the poem in 1937 under the title Lied eines jungen Wachpostens, 'Song of a Young Sentry'. By 1938 it had been set to the music we know today and the song released under the title Lili Marleen.

It became one of the most popular songs of the Second World War, particularly with soldiers and remarkably, with soldiers of both sides. The original German version was even sung in German by the Allies, before an English version was created.

Lala Andersen's (1905-1972) 1939 recording of 'Lili Marleen', its first public outing. The song's fame took off in 1941 with its popularity among soldiers of both sides. The Nazi government were never very fond of the song, thinking it sounded defeatist. Andersen was banned from performing for some time, after she was found to be corresponding with Jewish friends in Switzerland.

The creation and history of the song is wrapped in fable, leaving only questions: did the Nazis ban the song, or just live performances of it by its original singer, Lale Andersen?; who was the 'real' Lili Marleen?; is it an anti-war song, or just a sentimental song about separation? All these questions we can leave to the many people who are fascinated by the song's confused history.

Perhaps the song was popular because it was fundamentally unreal: a dream of a time that only existed in the imagination of separated lovers. The text looks back in nostalgia and hope. It summons up the dream figure of Lili Marleen; every soldier had one of those.

Judge for yourselves, then read the dose of reality offered by Heinrich Böll – a reality specialist – that follows the text of the song.

Lili Marleen, text by Hans Leip 1915/1937

Vor der Kaserne
Vor dem großen Tor
Stand eine Laterne
Und steht sie noch davor
So woll'n wir uns da wieder seh'n
Bei der Laterne wollen wir steh'n
Wie einst Lili Marleen.

In front of the barracks, in front of the main gate, stood a street lamp. It still stands there to this day. So if we want to meet again we'll stand by the street lamp as once we used to, Lili Marleen.

Unsere beide Schatten
Sah'n wie einer aus
Daß wir so lieb uns hatten
Das sah man gleich daraus
Und alle Leute soll'n es seh'n
Wenn wir bei der Laterne steh'n
Wie einst Lili Marleen.

Our two shadows merged into one, showing how we loved each other. Everyone shall see it when we stand by the street lamp as once we used to, Lili Marleen.

Schon rief der Posten,
Sie blasen Zapfenstreich
Das kann drei Tage kosten
Kam'rad, ich komm sogleich
Da sagten wir auf Wiedersehen
Wie gerne wollt ich mit dir geh'n
Mit dir Lili Marleen.

Then the sentry called: they are blowing the tattoo [the evening call back to barracks] – [being late] can cost you three days' [arrest]. Comrade, I'll be there straight away. Then we said goodbye, how I longed to leave with you, with you, Lili Marleen.

Deine Schritte kennt sie,
Deinen zieren Gang
Alle Abend brennt sie,
Doch mich vergaß sie lang
Und sollte mir ein Leids gescheh'n
Wer wird bei der Laterne stehen
Mit dir Lili Marleen?

The street lamp knows your step, your delicate walk. Every evening it still burns but it soon forgot me. Should anything happen to me, who will be standing by the street lamp with you, Lili Marleen?

Aus dem stillen Raume,
Aus der Erde Grund
Hebt mich wie im Traume
Dein verliebter Mund
Wenn sich die späten Nebel drehn
Werd' ich bei der Laterne steh'n
Wie einst Lili Marleen.

From the quiet room, from the surface of the Earth your beloved mouth lifts me up. When the late fog swirls I shall stand by the street lamp as once we used to, Lili Marleen.

Reality check from someone who was there

In September 1939 the twenty-two year old Heinrich Böll (1917-1985) was called up by the German Army. He served as a soldier throughout the war before he was captured by the Americans in 1945. A remarkable literary career followed, including the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1972.

In 1981 he wrote an autobiographical sketch about his experiences at that time: Was soll aus dem Jungen bloß werden?, 'What's to Become of the Boy?'.

Ach, Lili Marleen, du weißt doch, daß wir uns nie unter die Laterne gestellt haben! Wer stellt sich denn mit einem oder gar seinem Mädchen ausgerechnet unter die Laterne vor dem großen Tor? – in der dunkelsten Ecke an der Mauer standen wir –, und süß war’s nicht: aus deinen Armen zurück in den Männermief!

Ah, Lili Marleen, you know that we never stood around under the street lamp! Who stands with a girl or especially with his girl under the street lamp in front of the main gate of all places – we stood in the darkest corner of the wall – and sweet it was not: out of your arms and back into the stink of men.

Coda

While I was adding Lala Andersen's original rendition of 'Lili Marleen', the thought came to me that most of the people reading this would have little idea of the age it represents.

Anyone born just after the war would have parents and older siblings who had their own experiences of the time; from 1970 their number would decrease until within a few years, World War II was phantasmagoric history spiced up with a few movie representations; for those born in the new millennium it is all now ancient history, as distant to them as the Boer War was to us. Perhaps there is an obligation for one generation to keep the flame alive for the next. Perhaps.

For some reason I cannot explain, this thought triggered an unexpected burst of nostalgia in me when I remembered seeing Marlene Dietrich's show at the Sunderland Empire (of all places) on 5 December 1966. This was a stop on her six-week tour of nine venues in Britain, Scotland and Ireland. I remember the tickets were hard to come by – the ones my pal and I got were almost outside in the street – and the place was packed with… men – about two thousand of them, in fact, all of them, as far as we two teenagers could tell, old enough to be our fathers or grandfathers. Something of the flame was to be handed on that night.

I was there out of curiosity, wondering what the artefact from the past (she was then 65) would be like. I had never seen anyone famous in the flesh before, apart from Harold Wilson once, who inadvertently shook my hand when our paths crossed on the street.

Well, Marlene knocked it out of the park. What an entry. What a total diva, graciously absorbing the adoration that was her due. Of course she sang 'Lili Marleen' and closed her performance with the song that had given her a late career worldwide smash hit Sag mir, wo die Blumen sind, from the odious Pete Seeger's tedious 'Where Have All the Flowers Gone', which had been released just a few years before, in 1962. That was, of course, her finale. I remember thinking, from the mood in the theatre, that most of that audience would be back the next evening.

Marlene Dietrich's (1901-1992) rendition of 'Lili Marleen' (1954), her voice smoky and glottal, lacking the uncomplicated directness of Lala Andersen's original. Dietrich had the sure touch to forego the orchestra and backing singers of Andersen's version, instead just relying on a lone accordion. No longer a marching song for the masses, the tempo is stretched and released, the modulation underlines the nostalgic yearning: Wie einst Lili Marleen, 'As once, Lili Marleen'.

Update 03.04.2026

Ten years to the day since it was written, let's return and add some audio and a little bit of nostalgia to the piece.