A quarter of a century, and half a world away

The children of Hiroshima were all on holiday;

 

Not dreaming of the holocaust the heavens would release –

They weren’t concerned with politics, or – or even peace.

 

The children of Hiroshima, like youngsters anywhere,

Ran out to greet the morning sun, and breathe untainted air;

 

They ran and shouted , laughed and cried, in far away Japan,

And played the games they’ve always played since first mankind began…

 

The kind of games your children play, right there outside the door,

Without a thought of politics, without a thought of war.

 

From Washington to Leningrad, from Sydney to Saigon,

The children play their carefree games beneath the August sun.

 

And who amongst us can forget that agonising flash,

When children in Hiroshima were turned to heaps of ash?

 

May sanity preserve the lives that folly could destroy,

In Istanbul and Liverpool, in Capetown and Hanoi.

 

E.M. Crosby C.N.D., August 1970.