I see those eyes,
Those cold, dead eyes,
Staring at me through the door.
They've seen bad things,
The most horrible things,
and see no angels anymore.
They've seen the wire that held them in.
They've seen the weeping children
Crying for their mothers.
They've seen sickness,
They've seen blood.
They've see the dead bodies of their brothers.
My grandfathers eyes,
Those cold, dead eyes,
Have never seen hope,
Because that camp in Germany,
The one called Auschwitz,
Was to much for many to cope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Crying for their mothers nice sad meditative poem, touching 10