The speaker begins the poem by describing the populous, diverse city they now live in, which despite its size appears to have no room for refugees. While the speaker and other refugees did indeed have a country of their own, of which they were proud, they can no longer live there—despite the fact that the country still exists and can be found on a map. Using the metaphor of a yew tree that blooms every spring, the speaker laments the fact that passports cannot be reborn as valid documents. They address another person, calling them "my dear," repeatedly.
The speaker then recounts a series of problems with officials or citizens in the country where they have taken up residence. A consul, they report, has informed them that they are officially considered dead since they have no valid passport. A committee denied the speaker help, suggesting, despite the desperation of the speaker and other refugees, that they return in a year. A fearmongering speaker at a public meeting stirred anxieties about refugees harming the local economy. Meanwhile, the speaker reflects, Hitler's genocidal threats are audible like thunder in the sky.
Next, the speaker makes a series of comparisons between themselves and various animals they encounter. A dog is lovingly dressed in a jacket and a cat welcomed through a door. The speaker argues that they are considered worthy of this treatment because they are not German Jewish refugees. On trips to the harbor and the woods, the speaker watches fish swimming nearby and birds singing in the trees, but says that they are afforded these freedoms because they are not human.
The speaker then recalls a dream about wandering a huge building full of doors, but having ownership over none of it.
Finally, the speaker describes a plain, full of thousands of soldiers marching under falling snow—all of them looking for people like the speaker and the loved one the speaker is addressing.
