At Night

The bread of prayer is begged bread.

And the night wind of humiliation wildy squeals.

You shine at each other only,

lights.

Requiem, pain-quieting,

the rain plays darkly on brows.

And one tone deeper, hunger,

cannot grasp the sacrifice, the vain, the most vain,

by which, to life and love, you gave your word,

for which you died.

4.iii.1940

--

[Jirí Orten (30.8.1919 Kutna Hora - 1.9.1941 Prague). During the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia, Orten, who was Jewish, was unable to publish under his own name. He died after being hit by a German ambulance.]