- The last, the very last,
- So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
- Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing
- against a white stone. . . .
- Such, such a yellow
- Is carried lightly ‘way up high.
- It went away I’m sure because it wished to
- kiss the world good-bye.
- For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,
- Penned up inside this ghetto.
- But I have found what I love here.
- The dandelions call to me
- And the white chestnut branches in the court.
- Only I never saw another butterfly.
- That butterfly was the last one.
- Butterflies don’t live in here,
- in the ghetto.
Pavel Friedmann was born in Prague on January 7, 1921. He was deported to Terezin on April 26, 1942 and later to Auschwitz, where he died on September 29, 1944
For this assignment we had to do research about the ghetto and write a poem about living in the ghetto with our reading buddies. Me and my reading buddy, Emily, wrote the poem below together:
Here in the Ghetto:
Here in the ghetto,
Life's so hard,
I can never sleep at night,
It's too crowded and the space is tight
Whatever happened to our houses?
Now we're trapped in here like mice,
Trapped in a hole
Disease spreading everywhere
Oh how I wish I can go back home
We still have hope because we still have dreams
That will not be demolished
Until they are accomplished
One day this nightmare will stop
Someone, something, will stand up to these bullies
- By Sara and Emily
Hope you enjoyed it! (: