March them into the grave
No one here needs to be brave
Stop moving and your dead
Keep moving into your final bed
They themselves dug this hole
They imagined themselves a mole
To escape this nightmare
Now with their hands in their hair
They wonder what will be last
The last thought before the blast
I see this all in class
My eyes tear as images pass
Who could have this will
Hitler reigns still
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem