A keresés eredménye

The Auschwitz Tango

We danced tangos and foxtrots and sang melodies
Even before the war.
The gentle songs, resounding, yearning,
Rocked us to sleep with love.
And now war, no one writes songs
About those young years in the city.
Oh strike up a song, young girl, another song
About days and nights in the camp behind wire.
 
Our slave-tango—under the whip of the oppressors,
Oh the slave-tango of the Auschwitz camp.
Steel spears of the guard-animals—
Oh, freedom and free times are calling.
 
The Negro soon brings his mandolin
And will soon tinkle his song here,
And the Englishman, Frenchman sing a tune,—
From sorrow will come a trio.
And also the Polack soon takes up his little flute
And he will make the whole world feel—
Let song then rouse the hearts,
That yearn for the freedom they lack.
 
Our slave-tango . . .