30th Infantry Division Veterans of World War II, Nashville Tennessee, April 2015, 70th anniversary of the end of WWII. Credit: Larry S Powell.
The poet Yaakov Barzilai was on the ‘Train Near Magdeburg’. Originally composed in Hebrew, a translation has been provided by fellow survivor Micha Tomkiewicz. He has agreed to share his poem on the 70th anniversary of the liberation. ’11:55′ refers to the author’s recollection of the time of the day of the liberation of the train transport; ‘five minutes before the bitter end’.
Dedicated to Frank Towers and 30th Infantry Division soldiers, US liberators of the death train from Bergen-Belsen on April 13, 1945
At Eleven fifty-five.
Return to the Place of Liberation, April 13, 1945, after 65 years.
The train stopped under the hill, huffing and puffing, as though it reached the end of the road.
An old locomotive pulling deteriorating train cars that became obsolete long ago, not even fit for carrying horses.
To an approaching visitor, the experience was of a factory of awful smell – really stinking.
Two thousand four hundred stinking cattle heading for slaughter were shoved to the train cars.
The butterflies into the surrounding air were blinded by the poisonous stench.
The train moved for five days back and forth between Bergen-Belsen and nowhere.
On the sixth day, a new morning came to shine over our heads.
Suddenly the heavy car doors were opened.
Living and dead overflowed into the surrounding green meadow.
Was it a dream or a delayed awakening of God?
When we identified the symbols of the American army, we ran to the top of the hill as though bitten by an army of scorpions, to kiss the treads of the tanks and to hug the soldiers with overflowing love.
Somebody cried: “Don’t believe it, it is a dream”. When we pinched ourselves; we felt the pain – it was real.
Mama climbed to the top of the hill. She stood in the middle of the field of flowers and prayed an almost a silent prayer from the heart.
Only few words escaped to the blowing wind:
‘Soon…Now…..To the chimneys of death…I gave new life….to my children…. and this day… my grandchildren were born… to a good life.
Amen and Amen’.
Yaakov Barzilai.
‘Yaakov Barzilai is an esteemed Israeli poet; he is also a survivor of The Shoah. Born in Hungary in 1933, the year Hitler came to power in Germany he shares, in poetry and prose, a child’s memories of the horrors that befell the Jewish people. He tells of acts of great humanity and others of exceptional, he recounts tales of transportation and eventual rescue. He speaks of losses – family, potential and describes the eventual triumph of man over inhumanity.’ [www.cduniverse.com/productinfo.asp?pid=8756081]
בְּאַחַת עֶשְׂרֵה חֲמִשִּׁים וְחָמֵשׁ
שִׁיבָה לִמְקוֹם הַשִּׁחְרוּר בִּ 13 בְּאַפְּרִיל 1945
כַּעֲבֹר 65 שָׁנָה
הָרַכֶּבֶת עָצְרָה מִתַּחַת לַגִּבְעָה
נוֹשֶׁפֶת וְנוֹהֶמֶת
כְּמִי שֶׁהִגִּיעַ לְסוֹף דַּרְכּוֹ
קַטָּר זָקֵן גָּרַר קְרוֹנוֹת יְשָׁנִים
שֶׁאָבַד עֲלֵיהֶם כֶּלַח,
לֹא רְאוּיִים אֲפִלּוּ לִמְגוּרֵי סוּסִים.
מִי שֶׁהִזְדַּמֵּן לַסְּבִיבָה
הֶאֱמִין שֶׁנִּקְלַע לְבֵית חֲרֹשֶׁת לְסֵרָחוֹן
אַלְפַּיִם אַרְבַּע מֵאוֹת רָאשֵׁי בָּקָר מַסְרִיחִים
שֶׁנּוֹעֲדוּ לִשְׁחִיטָה
נִדְחְסוּ לַקְּרוֹנוֹת
כָּל הַפַּרְפַּרִים בַּסְּבִיבָה הִתְעַוְרוּ
מִסֵּרָחוֹן מַדְמִיעַ.
חֲמִשָּׁה יָמִים נָסְעָה הָרַכֶּבֶת הָלוֹךְ וַחֲזֹר
בֵּין בֶּרְגֶן-בֶּלְזֶן לְשׁוּם מָקוֹם
בַּיּוֹם הַשִּׁשִּׁי, בֹּקֶר חָדָשׁ זָרַח מֵעָלֵינוּ.
בְּבַת אַחַת נִפְתְחוּ הַדְּלָתוֹת הַכְּבֵדוֹת שֶׁל הַקְּרוֹנוֹת
חַיִּים וּמֵתִים נִשְׁפְּכוּ בְּיַחַד
אֶל הַיָּרֹק הַמִּשְׁתּוֹלֵל בַּשָּׂדוֹת.
הַאִם הָיָה זֶה חֲלוֹם
אוֹ הַצָּתָה מְאֻחֶרֶת שֶׁל אֱלֹהִים?
כְּשֶׁזִּהִינוּ אֶת סֵמֶל הַצָּבָא הַאָמֶרִיקָאִי,
כִּנְשׁוּכֵי עַקְרָב שָׁעֲטְנוּ בְּמַעֲלֵה הַגִּבְעָה
לְנַשֵּׁק אֶת שַׁרְשְׁרָאוֹת הַטַּנְקִים
וְלַחֲנֹק אֶת הַחַיָּלִים מֵרֹב אַהֲבָה.
מִישֶׁהוּ צָעַק: “אַל תַּאֲמִינוּ זֶה רַק חֲלוֹם”
וּכְשֶׁצָּבַטְנוּ אֶת עָצַמְנוּ
כָּאָב לָנוּ בֶּאֱמֶת.
גַּם אִמָּא טִפְּסָה אֶל גִּבְעַת הַנִּצָּחוֹן
הִיא עָמְדָה בְּתוֹךְ שָׂדֶה שֶׁל פְּרָחִים וְהִתְפַּלְּלָה
מִתּוֹךְ הַתְּפִלָּה הַחֲרִישִׁית שֶׁנֶּאֶמְרָה בַּלֵּב
רַק מִלִּים בּוֹדְדוֹת הִסְתַנְנוּ אֶל אֲוִיר הָעוֹלָם:
” וְכָאן… וְעַכְשָׁו… עַל פַּסֵי הָרַכֶּבֶת…
קָרוֹב… לַאֲרֻבּוֹת הַמָּוֶת…נָתַתִּי…
חַיִּים חֲדָשִׁים…לִילָדַי… וְהַיּוֹם הַזֶּה…
נוֹלְדוּ גַּם נְכָדַי… לְחַיִּים טוֹבִים…
אָמֵן… וְאָמֵן… יעקב ברזילי
