Children's tears

See how they're wailing
The trees' naked branches
In a street of heavenly groan.
That is the echo
Of tears of the children
That murderers' hands
Have forced out on their own.

The storm-wind spreads wailing
Their wild lamentation.
Telling the world of
The children's hard lot.

But does the storm need to
Describe their pain's horror?
Everyone feels it
In each Jewish heart.

They rustle, complaining
The branches.
And see, too
In every raindrop
The tear of a lonely child.