And the World

And the World remembers the face

Jedes Jahr wenn es August wird, heiß, Sommer, dann kommt die Erinnerung an das Schreckliche. An das Grauen.
An den kleinen Jungen. The Little Boy. So nannten sie die Bombe.
Es dauert noch ein bisschen bis der Jahrestag kommt und die Glocken läuten. In meinem Herzen beginnen sie manchmal früher zu läuten – und nie, nie, nie hab ich das Leid ermessen können.


There’s a shadow of a man at Hiroshima
where he’d pass the noon
in a wonderland at Hiroshima
’neath the August moon

And the world remembers his face
– remembers the place was here…

Fly metal bird to Hiroshima
and away your load
Speak the magic word to Hiroshima
let the sky explode

And the world remembers his name
– remembers the flame was here…

And the world remembers his name
– remembers the flame was here…

(Hiroshima, Japanese city of three hundred
thousand people
Ceased to exist at 9: 15 on a Monday morning
While going about its business in the sunshine
of a hot summer day.
It vanished in a huge ball of fire and a cloud
of boiling smoke
Obliterated by the first atom bomb used in the
history of world war terror
Such is the electrifying report of the American
crew of the superforce who dropped the bomb
as a cataclysmic warning to the Japs to get out
of war or be destroyed.
Hiroshima, the whole crew agreed was blotted
out but a flash more brilliant than the sun)

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