Through the grill of my cell
I see children playing.
Pinned there, shrinking there,
prison-years... torture-years...

Germany,
your sons will
no longer play
as children.

(C) Ernst Toller
03/07/2017


Best Poems of Ernst Toller

• Nightmare
• Spring
• Twilight
• November
• Sentry
• Deutschland
• Factory Smokestacks At Dawn
• The Visitor
• To The Trench
• For The Dead Of The Revolution
• Corpses In The Woods