Then, oh, they both broke down, with piteous cry.
I went.… Their way was barred; they could not pass.
I looked back as the train began to start;
Once more I ran with anguish at my heart
And through the bars I kissed my little lass.…
Three years have gone; they’ve waited day by day.
I never came. I did not even write.
For when I saw my face was such a sight
I thought that I had better… stay away.
And so I took the name of one who died,
A friendless friend who perished by my side.
In Prussian prison camps three years of hell
I kept my secret; oh, I kept it well!
And now I’m free, but none shall ever know;
They think I died out there… it’s better so.
To-day I passed my wife in widow’s weeds.
I brushed her arm. She did not even look.
So white, so pinched her face, my heart still bleeds,
And at the touch of her, oh, how I shook!
And then last night I passed the window where
They sat together; I could see them clear,
The lamplight softly gleaming on their hair,
And all the room so full of cozy cheer.
My wife was sewing, while my daughter read;
I even saw my portrait on the wall.
I wanted to rush in, to tell them all;
And then I cursed myself: “You’re dead, you’re dead!”
