I do not hear the shrill sounds that fill the blue skies,
Nor the savage laughter of hyenas in the pitiless arenas,
Nor the cry of lonely victims in the face of cruel systems,
Nor the joyous cheers of vile watchers of blood catchers,
I do not hear, I can not hear.
My ears are blotted with fear.
I can not hear. I do not hear
My tongue is tied up here.
My eyes have used up their tears.
It must be fear. It must be fear.
Death must be fatally near.
It must be near. It must be near.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem