A barren street
with a herd of stooped heads
shaking hands
quarrelsome old men and women

There are no roses here,
no, only dust and stones
and shrunken skin
of quarrelsome old men and women.

There is no warmth
only the cold pervades
Oh God, trample all living
and kill.
Not to see the destitution and hunger
Not to hear
the croaking
of quarrelsome old men and women.

Jiri Pribramsky, inhabitant of the Terezin ghetto