Death

A barrow travelled on darkened paths
and its freight was somber, rigid.
A barrow travelled through the rain,
and children followed it, in truth.

Two girls, in their nature shy,
with eyes, alas!, so very far.
Sorrow had been their loyal friend,
and nowhere shined with hope a star.

With hearts that knew of trembling,
they hurried on their way.
While in front of the cart, rambling
women pulled mindlessly.

The freight, it rumbled and it rolled,
it offered all who saw it horror –
for everything the wagon hauled,
belonged to death once and for all.

Corpses had been thrown down,
so casually, like worthless goods.
On the children's scabs was found
once flowing and now old blood.

How heavily laden was this life
their childhood accompanied by need.
And the striving of both their hearts
was most certainly a piece of bread.

They held each other's hands as one,
as if they wished to carry the load.
So distant, blinded by the sun,
together, silent and composed.

Just think, they were children,
and nowhere was there a light.
Just think, very small children,
and had death alone in sight.