kocht bij mijn plaatselijke tabaksboer bovenstaande special van thematijdschrift over kaiser wilhelm's ballingschap te doorn - die ik met veel plezier gelezen heb - enkel jammer dat de ballingschap van diens zoon op wieringen - toen nog een eiland - buiten beschouwing is gelaten, maar misschien een interessant onderwerp voor een volgend nummer
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stuitte vandaag in een nieuwsbrief van het herinneringscentrum te theresienstadt uit 2007
(die mijn ouders voor me hadden meegebracht) op een jongestorven dichter die mij nog niet bekend was - enig speurwerk leverde onder andere onderstaand gedicht op:
Rememberance
In that grey house, an old woman
Suffered on her bed. No one knew her.
And as she shrivelled away, with God her only succour...
She secretly hugged something to her.
In that grey house, an old woman
Suffered on her bed. No one knew her.
And as she shrivelled away, with God her only succour...
She secretly hugged something to her.
A kind of cardboard box, and when she dies
The ghetto will be her only heir.
And how she cried, that helpless woman.
She wanted to live to see her children one time more.
She did not want to die;
She wrung her hands (or clung to her faded souvenir)
Then in the night, dry for lack of water, died.
I was upset for fully half a day.
When they came for her things in the morning -
Such a beautiful balmy day -
All they found was four simple flowers
And a picture of her son clapsed
Tightly in her twisted, stiffened hands.
They took it from her, clumsily, roughly,
And tore it up.
I look at her.
I learned nothing more. But I believe -
I hope,
That mother and son were burned together
© Hanus Hachenburg (1929 Praag - 1943 Auschwitz) (14)
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will wemerman – mooie beelden door mat glas
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The ghetto will be her only heir.
And how she cried, that helpless woman.
She wanted to live to see her children one time more.
She did not want to die;
She wrung her hands (or clung to her faded souvenir)
Then in the night, dry for lack of water, died.
I was upset for fully half a day.
When they came for her things in the morning -
Such a beautiful balmy day -
All they found was four simple flowers
And a picture of her son clapsed
Tightly in her twisted, stiffened hands.
They took it from her, clumsily, roughly,
And tore it up.
I look at her.
I learned nothing more. But I believe -
I hope,
That mother and son were burned together
© Hanus Hachenburg (1929 Praag - 1943 Auschwitz) (14)
***
will wemerman – mooie beelden door mat glas
***
las
de verlosser en enkele andere gedichten van jl nierstrasz - 2e druk
1836 & kwam op de naamlijst der inteekenaren een krankbezoeker
tegen
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