Still I hear the howls of broken glass,
scattered black on pavements with fire.
Crowds gather to watch the night burn
as torches parade, followed by dark clouds.
Tired skies empty and reflect the chaos below,
weeping tears like cracks in the dirt.
Streets, illuminated beyond the hour,
fill with cries of fear and hate and rage.
This is happening as it did before.
In the pale. In forgotten corners.
Still I hear the howls of broken glass!
Es brennt! Undzer shtetl brennt!