La vida

es una burla contínua

a nuestra ingenuidad.


I WAS IN AUSCHWITZ , poem by Beatriz Iriart


         To the memory of Primo Levi

               January 27th, 2006



I was in Auschwitz.
From bitterness
Pain and terror
I bore children
Barefoot I walked through mud
And harvested flowers fields
Just like the fresh seeds
Of our flocks.
Today 61 years after
The camp liberation:
I am a shadow
A faceless woman
Desolation and hunger.
Was in Auschwitz.

© Beatriz Iriart

Translation from Spanish by
Olga Y. Mancinelli