for you to win, you should have adopted
the chameleon thing,
take the color of who is powerful
hold their hands, and be them
even for the moment that you still need them
you are as hardheaded as a rebel
whose color is blood against those walls of the towers
you raise your hands in the shape of a fist
and shout your freedom in the streets of murder
look at you, you're out now, ostracized, stinking fool
i pity you
but on the other hand, you are true and dignified
a true man in the bravery of a defeat
seldom growing in the fields of honor.
i must salute you then.
you let me live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem