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Poem of William HermannsP361
Lonie
Trained dogs bark close at our heels, and then behind barbed wire my friends of fate grow less and less. I wait in mud and mire and wonder when they'll call my number, deep in my skin tattooed. A smoke smell brings us through the air, its message pitiless, shrewd. The ovens make their message known. But God had pity on me. A foreign soldier cuts barbed wire. An American speaks: "You're free!" Lonie Detering Free translation by William Hermanns [P361] Note: P361.Lonie; Stanford; 1981; free translation of poem by Lonie Detering by her cousin William Hermanns The image below can be shared:
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