Wrapped in cold and smelly wind
every scent was bathe in filth
insect songs defile the night
as we hope and dreamt of light
some had lay thier heads in nit
while we foldour legs beneath
crumbs of rot on every side
snoring fast through stenchy tide
chocking room with feasting tick
dyeing smells of cancer stick
we were ten, a metre space
lost in thoughts of our own case
we long our hearts to tear
despite calm and timid stare
despite cruise in cardiacs car
we were brothers behind bar.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem