Don't weep! Above the yellow steppe
Still hangs the same late summer heat
And they, with children on their backs,
Come still, with tired and stumbling feet.
No tears! And as the crowd goes by
From Stalingrad to God knows where,
Don't try to catch their downcast eyes -
You cannot look for pity there!
Go on - don't strive to meet their gaze!
They need no sympathy, no shame!
All that they need from you is this -
You must go there, from whence they came!