A murderer was hired
To murder a man who
In death became a matyr
For the change he believed in
But which the world resisted.
The murderer made available
The blood of the matyr to the world
And it became the ink for
Writing a piece of history
The world bears this crimson history
And it is not in a hurry to forget
The murderer dies
But the matyr lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem