Hiroshima remembered

A translation follows:

I'm the one knocking on doorsthe doors one by one.
I can't be seen in your eyesdead invisible to the eye.

Since he died in Hiroshimaa decade or so.
I'm a seven-year-old girl,dead kids don't grow up.

Before my hair caught fire,my eyes are burned.
I became a handful of ash,my Ash was thrown into the air

From you for myselfI don't want to anything.
He can't even eat candy,the boy who burns like paper

I'm knocking at your door,aunt, uncle, give me an autograph.
Children should not be killed,let them eat sugar.