The ash went in the river
And it floated to the sea;
Burnt offerings to feed the fish
Which nourish you and me.
From Auschwitz to the Vistula
Which flows with human blood,
Mixing with the water
And then mingling with the mud.
The smoke went up to heaven
And then fell to earth as rain,
Replenishing the river
With the victims’ tears again;
Returning to the land
And watering the soil
With drops which help produce the crops
From which we should recoil.
So when you are in Europe,
Enjoying food and drink,
Consider what is on your plate
And what flows down your sink.