They are not afraid
to hate
and what use is it
to have an opinion about that

They are so civilized
they pull on velvet gloves
call your name and take you by the hand

spin you around like a child
without you being able to laugh
because they do

On the walls, they draw streaks
of living red
There are pictures of it

They decently buried the pieces
of guilt and shame at fields of honour
with every year again
a solemn commemoration