A lot. I'm a German with also Jewish ancestors.
They were full of curiosity, they were full of life
The children, and they were forty-four in number
They were just like you, they were just like all children
In the house in Izieu high above the Rhone valley
Herded together on the run from the Germans
And behind every name is bitter suffering
All left all alone in the world
Leaning against each other in this murderous time
In the year forty-four, the time of the diligent henchmen
The spies and henchmen ordered to hunt people
No one will find them here, up here in the mountains
The children of Izieu, here at the end of the world
Joseph, who can paint: landscapes with horses
Théodore, who brings food to the chickens and cows
Liliane, who writes so beautifully, she should become a poet one day
Little Raoul, who sings all day long
And Elie, Sami, Max and Sarah, as they are all called:
Each has their gift, their talent, their part
Each is a gift, and none will be snatched from those
Who guard and love them, each in their own way
But an evil foreboding has long hovered over every game
The fear of discovery over every new day
And behind every laugh sounds the dark warning
That every car that comes may bring doom
They arrived on the morning of Maundy Thursday
Soldiers in long coats and men in civilian clothes
A sunny day, they took everyone, everyone with them
Pushed on trucks and they named no destination
Some began to sing in their despair
Some prayed, others remained silent
Some cried and all, all went
The same way to their martyrdom
The chronicle shows the exact lists of names
The number of the wagon and which train it was attached to
The number of the transport that brought them to the camp
The chronicle shows that none escaped the murderers
Today I hear that we should put this in the history books
And there has to be an end, finally, after all these years
I'll talk and I'll sing and if I have to, I'll scream
So that our children know who they were:
The oldest was seventeen, the youngest just four years old
Led from the ramp in Birkenau to the gas chambers
I will see them all my life and keep
Their names engraved in my soul
They were full of curiosity, they were full of life
The children, and they were forty-four in number
They were just like you, they were just like all children
In the house in Izieu high above the Rhone valley