Oh, gently rocking afternoon, give me peace—
I will lie down too, and work later.
The light of your sun is already hanging on the hedges,
and yonder the evening comes across the hills.
They have killed a cloud, its blood is falling on the sky;
below, on the stems of the glowing leaves
sit wine-scented yellow berries. ~ Miklos Radnoti
In 1944, Miklos Radnoti marched across Hungary with other Jews. He lived with the reality that the Nazis would shoot him at any time. Yet he kept a notebook of poems tucked in his field jacket’s pocket. Somehow, he sneaked out a pen, and despite his terror, fear, and weariness, he wrote a series of poems.