Don't walk in the street,don't eat, don't live,
backbreaking work is all you're allowed,
and beware the sign that bares its teeth:
'Only for Germans, others keep out.'

If you exist, you, up on high,
Eternal Judge, our Father, God,
Then on their life and on their culture
You will inscribe: Nur fur Deutsche.

When evening embraces the city,
we will walk calmly, slowly,
through Ksiazeca Street or down Smolna,
under the bridge, the arches and streetlights.

We will cross paths with strangers,
we will smile, and wait:
disinherited, unhappy women
and foolish, lonely poets.