The winter evening settles down
With smells of flesh in passage trains
It's Six o'clock in hell's kitchen
It's Six o'clock in Auschwitz

The burnt-out ends of smoky days
Snow or human falling from heaven
They've lost their wings
No fans in dun hazed snow 

The grimy scraps
They're withered leaves about your feet
The showers beat
How magnificently clean they are

From broken bars and chimney-pots
They escape the clouds
Yet litter the grounds
Litter around, cold sounds

And then the lighting of the lamps
They furnace a purpose
What the world ought to be
Dulce et Decorum Est

The red ribbon in her hair
The red ribbon in my hand
Under swastika fair
Under swastika just

It's hard to bare
It's hard to trust
But this is how things ought to be
We'd dreamt the Isle of Innisfree

Too many fantasies
Hard be true
The wrong end of my beginning;
Falling in love with a Jew

These blurry skies
They know no fear
The dust in my eyes
It's hers for sure

This evening, she died
She's so crimson in ash
In her ribbon I know
My swastika's contrast

Hath in hold my heart so sore
My uniform of desire is my decay 
I've lost all my dreams
I've lost all on this day

With red ribbons
She's always swept the snow
I'm not four perfect angels 
But a moved man trying to cope

Now there's my cremated love 
I'll never again know
My heart is burnt and frozen still
Falling red ribbons on snow



(   Italic References: 
    "The winter evening settles down" by T. S. Eliot
    "The Neglected Lover" by Sir Tomas Wyatt
    "The lake Isle of Innisfree" by William B. Yeats
    "Dulce Et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen, 
    A quote from the Latin poet Horace meaning, 
    "It is sweet and fitting to die" with "pro patria mori",
    meaning; "for one's country".                             )