In children's eyes a sorrow not of childhood, In them are frozen doubt and fear so deep. Within their souls a tear burns, burning wildly, It trembles like a frightened bird that weeps. War stole away their cherished home and shelter, The enemy has robbed their peaceful days. Sweet dreams lie burnt and shattered, torn asunder, They melted in the fire's deadly blaze.
They should still play and rejoice in springtime, But sirens' wail has stopped it all right there, And suddenly these children faced their bedtime, In basements hiding from the nightmare's snare. With mothers driven to a foreign country, They seek protection from the evil's might, Yet still the foe pursues them down the century, With deadly rockets through the endless night.
As children of the war they'll call them after When peace arrives and all the fighting ends, Yet they will carry in their hearts the laughter— The sorrow that a child's life never mends. A memory page forever stained and sorrowed Will mark the ones who caused their childhood's death— How can you look into their eyes? How borrow Forgiveness with each still resentful breath?
The cursed ones stand in condemnation ever, For those who brought the children death and woe, God's wrath fills up the cup and overflows—no, never Will they escape the judgment's holy blow.
