I was being scratched by the tree trunks
wish I was insane,
fragile flesh, she said, vomiting,
Damn the goal that the goal is inclined.
I was imprisoned in the cruel veil:
stone, steel, shovel, guard,
completely deprived of the whole world
and considered it even alive.
In the small window, only out of sight
is a cloud of tears filled with tears,
a sore throat of a wounded heart,
flag of my misery.
Lightning pierces the watchman's eyes,
at the young man's door no one came near;
The prisoner shouted in the adjoining fortress,
an animal roar in the cave.
The night seems like a chain
at the point of the bloody foot,
the whole night was blown away
a casket that seemed to go away.
Whenever a simple footstep passes,
the chain's hook is cracking;
on the pale day it will be unloaded,
Thousands questioned in the dark.
Occasionally, the night would be awkward
on the signal-fugitive-and the fuselage;
once the old gourd wept,
in the fortified fortress, there is a dying.
And this is my only world right now -
prison baths are life burial;
ten, twenty, and all year
my whole life has been here.
But it seems to be fearless
and in the meantime the abuser is oppressed,
all tyranny has a people reward.
And tomorrow, there, too, I can see
a cloudless sky,
The golden day of victory will shine!