(1909 - 1984 / Warsaw)

poet Anna Swirszczynska
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He Was Lucky

The old man
leaves his house, carries books.
A German soldier snatches his books
flings them in the mud.


The old man picks them up,
the soldier hits him in the face.
The old man falls,
the soldier kicks him and walks away.


The old man
lies in mud and blood.
Under him he feels
the books.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004


Read poems about / on: soldier, house

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