The Photo
When I was nine, the war had been over
for about two, years, but the German army had left
behind uniforms, so we dressed up
and made a Nazi salute thinking this was the way
the Germans greeted one another.
I know better, know they primarily shake hands.
A picture for posterity was taken of three lads
acting it up. I had forgotten about the picture although
it is on a frame on the top bookshelf.
A tiresome anti-Nazi, born in 1960, didn't think
the photo had any historical value and wanted me to destroy
the offence we children had committed.
He got upset when I refused the request and called
me a Nazi storm trooper, left and slammed the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem