terça-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2015

The days go by...

The Leg-irons
(from the Prison Diary of Ho Chi Minh)

With hungry mouth open like a wicked monster,
Each night the irons devour the legs of people:
The jaws grip the right leg of every prisoner:
Only the left is free to bend and stretch.
Yet there is one thing stranger in this world:
People rush in to place their legs in irons.
Once they are shackled, they can sleep in peace.
Otherwise they would have no place to lay their heads.

The Prison Song

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