The Elders

			We live here in the territory of the hunted,
			Where fates, endeavours and beginnings
			Thicken into a formless gray of misery.
			We live in the world of the expelled.

			We almost saw ourselves at the finish,
			When we were called to be stirred up.
			We had to reenter back into a life,
			We didn’t want, we don’t understand.

			In grey dust our lamentations seep away,
			Separated from home and world by walls.
			As too light adjudged on the scales of fate,

			We serve imprisoned in this purgatory
			The bleak rests of our strung out days
			And duly pay this century our taxes.

			(in Theresienstadt 1943)
			Bruno König (1900 – 1944) 
			(translated by U. F. 2019)

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