my uncle never spoke much of his time
as a POW in Camp 5 in North Korea
just outside Pyongyang
where he spent 36 months
don't ask him what happened
in that bleak place
discount the overtures by his captors
to influence public opinion
by feeding gruel and kimchee
and issuing cold weather gear
for the sycophantic press
to photograph and write about
the evil persists
and the symphony plays there now
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem