Dreams
of dread -
Buchenwald -
where the lampshades
of unblemished flesh
immortalized the Jews
forevermore for the world
in an eternity of light.
Prisoners were called 'Singing Horses, '
and they sang as they marched along Blood Street.
Skinned and tanned, the corpses were discarded,
the finest Jewish leather was wrapped
around the words written in books.
Some have said that Ilse Koch
even wore the soft gloves -
Bitch of Buchenwald -
her hands were cold,
her handbag
shedding
tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That you can compose this astonishing poem is remarkable to me. So much to think about this one.