In the late summer of 1972, at the Olympic
Games in Munich, Germany, eleven Israeli athletes were murdered
by Arab terrorists.
Of the many essays of consolation spoken and published throughout the civilized
world regarding the atrocity, the Wingate Institute (which lost three of its
staff members in the horror) published the following poem from the Ceylon Times,
in its monthly newsletter:
Weep tears again;
Hot bitter tears
For Moshe, slain . . .
With thousands more like him
Bright, radiant, strong,
He came to speak his word, to sing his song;
Bright, radiant, strong, he came
With thousands more like him to play a game.
Tell me, I beg you once again,
Why was young Moshe slain?
For some ten thousand-year-old bond of hate?
For some unknown, untold caprice of fate?
Or was it, as they say, because he was Moshe?
Poor young Moshe, they’ll lay you soon
Into the sand where never sun nor moon,
Where never sound nor light
Will touch your endless night.
How sad young friend, that as they say,
You had to die
Because you were Moshe . . .Weep tears again poor world,
Weep tears again,
Hot bitter tears,
For Moshe, slain.