(Those Who Would Dare Speak the Truth)
Through iron bars and sooty glass,
you see a square of muddy snow,
where cawing rooks and jackdaws pass
over the heads of those who go
no further than the prison walls—
mothers, fathers, weeping wives
bearing bags of fruit and rolls
to those whose candour cost their lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem