There are faces I used to see.
They meant nothing to me
Yet I miss them.
Tomorrow all I think, all I am
Will be just one less passer-by
On the side-walk of the day.
Father, you whispered:
It's your thoughts that fight desperately your soul.
Son. It's your thoughts that wound you.

Background: many deaths in the Ghetto. Many faces missing. The brother speaks, he doesn't believe in the eternity of the soul.