(To a friend who was martyred when he was 30 years old) You too, left Laid your head on the lap of death The soul of your mother visited you Sang you thirty lullabies Beat her breast thirty times Put her bosom in your mouth thirty times You became an infant baby again They wrapped you in a black cloth And handed you over to Satan He took you away, away And threw you to the hook of fishermen When you screamed, the mermaid came out: Pulled her hair in anger and disappeared When she left, the fishermen Collected lapels of gold. You cursed the Nazis of this age thirty times You closed your eyes for good and left. Satan pooh-poohed A mirror in a deserted room Startled thirty times. Thirty pages of a diary written with sweat and tears Were screaming in the grip of a wind A one-year old child Rode on the back of the storm Recovered the last page of the diary And sang every single line.