(Birkenau, Odessa)
We went there on the train. They had big barges that they towed,
We stood up, there were so many I was squashed.
There was a smoke-stack, then they made me wash,
It was a factory, I think. My mother held me up
And I could see the ship that made the smoke.
When I was tired my mother carried me.
She said, “Don’t be afraid.” But I was only tired.
Where we went there is no more Odessa.
They had water in a pipe-like rain, but hot;
The water there is deeper than the world
And I was tired and fell in in my sleep
And the water drank me. That is what I think.
And I said to my mother, “Now I’m washed and dried,”
My mother hugged me, and it smelled like hay
And that is how you die. And that is how you die.
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