Poetry and lovely images
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Water washing down to river wide
A field of daisies and wild grasses green
Inside my pulsing heart, the blood did plead
That history and myth could take a ride
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
Lack of hope conspires to kill our dreams
And memories that lie can be no guide
To fields of daisies and wild grasses green
The silver birches light with sun’s soft beams
In their way, they are discreet disguise.
Through the barbed wire fence, I saw a stream
About the cruelty of human deeds
The library made is shattered and demeaned
Still fields of daisies hold wild grasses green
Few can bear to enter and to read
What the minds of sufferers could mean
Through the barbed wire fence, they saw a stream
While Icarus descended, unperceived
Farmers tilled their meadows, blithe, deceived
Through the barbed wire fence, we saw a stream
The field of daisies and wild grasses screamed
Silver birches grew near Auschwitz at least in a film I saw
