Dachau concentration camps from 1938 to 1945
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Dachau concentration camps from 1938 to 1945
Most famous Holocaust poem of all time, “First They Came for the Jews,” was written by Martin Niemöller, a Lutheran pastor and theologian who was born in Germany in 1892. At one time a supporter of Hitler’s policies, he eventually recanted and as a result was arrested and confined to the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1938 to 1945. After narrowly avoiding execution at the hands of the Nazis, he was liberated by the Allies in 1945 and continued his career in Germany as a clergyman, pacifist and anti-war activist.
FIRST, THEY CAME by Martin Niemöller
First, they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left to speak out for me
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I do not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
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After my Death
by Chayim Nachman Bialik (5664–1903/4)
Translated from the Hebrew by David P. Stern
After my death, thus shall you mourn me “There was a man –and see: he is no more! Before his time did this man depart And the song of his life in its midst was stilled And alas! One more tune did he have And now that tune is forever lost Forever lost! And great is the pity! For a harp had he A living and singing soul And this poet, whenever he voiced it The inner secrets of his heart it expressed All its strings his hand would make sing out. Yet one hidden chord now is lost with him Round and round it his fingers would dance One string in his heart, mute has remained Mute has remained — to this very day! And great, oh great is the pity! All its life this string would tremble Silently quivering, silently trembling To sound the tune that would set it free Yearning, thirsting, sorrowing, desiring As the heart sorrows for what fate has decreed Though its tune was delayed — every day did it wait And with unheard whisper begged it to come Its time came and passed, and it never arrived It never arrived! And great, oh, how great is the pain There was a man –and see: he is no more And the song of his life in its midst is stilled One more melody did he have And now that song is forever lost Forever lost! Der Himmel “The Heavens” by Ber Horvit