ΑΣΜΑ  ΑΣΜΑΤΩΝ

Τι ωραία που είν’ η αγάπη μου                         

με το καθημερνό της φόρεμα                     

κι ένα χτενάκι στα μαλλιά.                                  

Κανείς δεν ήξερε πως είναι τόσο ωραία.                    

Κοπέλες του Άουσβιτς,                              

του Νταχάου κοπέλες,                                

μην είδατε την αγάπη μου;                           

Την είδαμε σε μακρινό ταξίδι                        

δεν είχε πια το φόρεμά της                                         

ούτε χτενάκι στα μαλλιά.                                      

Τι ωραία που είν’ η αγάπη μου                            

η χαϊδεμένη από τη μάνα της                             

και τ’ αδερφού της τα φιλιά.                               

Κανείς δεν ήξερε πως είναι τόσο ωραία.                     

Κοπέλες του Μαουτχάουζεν,                    

κοπέλες του Μπέλσεν,                              

μην είδατε την αγάπη μου;                           

Την είδαμε στην παγερή πλατεία                                 

μ’ ένα αριθμό στο άσπρο της το χέρι         

με κίτρινο άστρο στην καρδιά.                                  

Τι ωραία που είν’ η αγάπη μου                            

η χαϊδεμένη από τη μάνα της                             

και τ’ αδερφού της τα φιλιά.                               

In ihrem schlichten Alltagskleid 

Mit einem Kamm in ihrem Haar

Keiner wusste, wie schön sie ist

Töchter von Auschwitz

Töchter von Dachau

Habt Ihr meine Liebe gesehen?

Wir sahen sie auf einer langen Reise

Sie trug nicht mehr ihr Kleid

Ein Kamm steckte nicht mehr in ihrem Haar

Wie schön ist meine Liebe

Liebkost von ihrer Mutter

Und von den Küssen ihres Bruders

Keiner wusste, wie schön sie ist

Ihr Töchter von Mauthausen

Ihr Töchter von Bergen-Belsen

Habt Ihr meine Liebe gesehen?

Wir sahen sie auf einem eisigen Platz

Eine Nummer auf ihrem weißen Arm

Ein gelber Stern auf ihrem Herz

Wie schön ist meine Liebe

Liebkost von ihrer Mutter

Und von den Küssen ihres Bruders

Keiner wusste, wie schön sie ist

Oh how beautiful is my beloved

In her simple everyday dress

With a comb in her hair

Nobody knows how beautiful she is

Daugthers of Auschwitz- Girls of Dachau

Have you seen my beloved?

We have seen her on a journey

She's no longer wearing her dress

And there's no comb in her hair

Oh how beautiful is my beloved

So pampered by her mother

And by her brothers' kisses

Nobody knows how beautiful she is

Daughters of Mauthausen- Girls of Belsen

Have you seen my beloved?

We have seen her in the large frozen square

A number on her white arm

A yellow star pulsing on her heart

Oh how beautiful is my beloved

So pampered by her mother

And by her brothers' kisses

© Copyright: Rafael Manory

1. SONG OF SONGS

How lovely is my love

in her everyday dress

with a little comb in her hair.

No-one knew how lovely she was.

Girls of Auschwitz,

girls of Dachau,

did you see my love?

We saw her on a long journey;

she wasn’t wearing her everyday dress

or the little comb in her hair.

How lovely is my love

caressed by her mother,

and her brother’s kisses.

Nobody knew how lovely she was.

Girls of Mauthausen

girls of Belsen

did you see my love?

We saw her in the frozen square

with a number on her white hand

with a yellow star on her heart.

How lovely is my love

caressed by her mother,

and her brother’s kisses.

Nobody knew how lovely she was.

2. ANDONIS

There, on the wide staircase,

the staircase of tears,

in the deep Wiener Graben

in the quarry of lament,

Jews and partisans walk,

Jews and partisans fall.

They carry a rock on their backs,

rock, the cross of death.

There Andonis hears

a voice, a voice

“Oh Comrade, Comrade

help me climb the stairs!”

But there on the wide stairway

the stairway of tears

such help is a swearword

such kindness, a curse.

The Jew falls on the step

and the stairway turns red.

“And you, my fine fellow, come here,

carry a rock twice as big.”

“I’ll take a double, a triple,

me, they call me Andonis

and if you’re a man, come here

to the marble threshing floor.”  *

* In the Greek folk tradition, the threshing floor is the place where the hero wrestles with Death, personified as Charos.

3. THE FUGITIVE

Janos Ber from the North

can’t stand the barbed wire.

He takes heart, takes wing

runs through the villages of the valley.

Ma’am, give me a piece of bread

and clothes to change into –

I have a long way to go

and lakes the fly across.

Wherever he goes or stops

fear and terror strike

and a cry, a terrible cry:

Hide from the fugitive!

Christians, I’m no murderer,

no beast come to eat you.

I left the prison

to go back to my home.

Ah, what deathly loneliness

in this land of Bertolt Brecht!

They hand Janos over to the S.S.

They’re taking him, now, to be killed.

4. WHEN THE WAR ENDS

Girl with the frightened eyes,

girl with the frozen hands,

don’t forget me when the war ends.

Joy of the world, come to the gate

so we can embrace in the street,

so we can kiss in the square.

So we can make love in the stone quarry

in the gas chambers, on the stairs

in the gun towers.

Make love at noon

in all the places of death

until its shadow disappears.

Girl with the frightened eyes,

girl with the frozen hands,

don’t forget me when the war ends.