The Pipel

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               " Two prisoners in chains and among them the young Pipel.

                    In unison the nooses were placed around their necks.

                                         All eyes were on the child.

                             Where is merciful God someone screamed!

                              At the signal all the chairs were tipped over.

                                       The two men were not moving.

                             But the child was still moving, still breathing.

                                                 He was too light.

                    These withered bodies have long forgot the taste of tears.

                                  That night the soup tasted of corpses.

      This Pipel had a young delicate and beautiful face an incredible sight at the camp.

                                      In Buna most Pipel were hated.

                            But not this Pipel he was loved by everyone.

                             His face was the face of an angel in distress.

                                 There was total silence in the camp.

             Then the Lageralteste broke the silence and screamed "caps off"

                                                his voice quivered.

               As for the rest of us we were weeping while removing our caps.

   Ten thousand prisoners paid their respects as the bodies hung there empty and dead."

 

                                                     -Night by Eli Wiesel turned into a poem by Samantha Sullivan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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