It is today that you remembered,
they built the wall, seemingly overnight.
Berlin was what it was and would not be,
they said the communists were swines,
so full of guilt and gasping for a breath
of sweet deliverance of every day.
They shot the innocent, rewarded those
who, in the blink of it, would shoot to kill.
August thirteen, my friend, is you on time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem