Translated by A. Z. Foreman - Letters from the Ghetto lyrics

Your brief letters: Three lines on a card, no more- from far away as if each mile had added a stone. That is how heavy they are. A line on everybody's health, mentioning each by name. No worries, there isn't anything to fear. And the white blankness begs on the paper for mercy. That's how it probably is, the script of tears. These brief letters are gathered all unto me, They shall remain until the end of generations. I see the quivering hand that writes them now in horror's cursive, I know the fiery Hand that shall inscribe the blankness with mercy.