Being torn down was a brick wall,
Old, but now a part of the new.
Within the rubble of it all
Was found a paper put into
A glass bottle. Written thereon,
Number 145664.
Put there in a time now long gone,
Sometime in the second World War,
When Nazis ran the Aushwitz camp,
A prisoner left a lasting trace,
Put there in a hole dark and damp,
That evil would not win this place.
It was a time of hellish harm.
That tattoo still is on my arm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wickedness! ! Torn down! Thanks for sharing.