Fraternity-Testvériség, 1961 (39. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1961-10-01 / 10. szám

FRATERNITY

3

Would you like to hear how they operate Their death train round the clock to hell (What Slave ■—- and Murder Syndicate?)

It’s a, simple formula; it works well:

You run down, smoke out, round up all

Your dangerous patriot deportees —•

The young, the old, the short, the tall;

No matter. Flesh and bone will squeeze.

Your assembling point for these human cattle Lies east of the border: Uzhgorod.

From there the boxcars roll and rattle With their branded cargo, load on load,

Jammed in by bayonets, forced to stand,

The cars sealed tight, no bread or water.

Far from their homes, their motherland,

Marked for the slave camp, marked for slaughter. Over the rails thx foul tide flores As the boxcars carry these living dead,

The vomit and excrement stiff on their clothes, Fetid and stale. And many go mad,

Shrieking for water. And many stand still, Propped straight up in the airless spaces By the stifling press, kept erect until Unloaded, they fall dead on their faces.

Shall I go on? Have you heard enough

Of the kindly ways of the Communist,

Whose only law, when things get rough,

Is the rifle butt and the bludgeon fist?

(The hammer to break your head in two,

The sickle to cut your throat clean through.)

In the wreck and rubble of Budapest They found toy soldiers, a set of toys That somehow survived the holocaust When Soviet tanks killed little boys.

The soldier who is made of zinc Doesn’t have to feel or think;

The warrier molded out of steel Doesn’t have to think or feel;

The hero who is carved of lead May be killed, but won’t stay dead;

Mounts of wood and iron men