Poem:

That Wall

Nazim Hikmet
Illustrated by Maureen Scott

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That wall... that wall...,
They shoot our people in front of that wall.

Every single foot of that wall has an epic
as long as that wall.
Thal wall: They pluck the male organs of those who die in front of that wall
To make youth serums for the straw-like skeletons of syphilitic millionaires.
 

To the millionaires,
buried in the flesh of whores
It's like a radio concert to listen
To the death sentences executed in front of that wall... There is a mobilisation more widespread, more deadly, more accursed
than in 1914... 1939.
The Sixth Fleet;
nuclear devices;
 

The C.I.A.;
Imperialist generals;
The Second International;
Diplomats with gunpowder scented white gloves;
Philosophers who dig and fertilise the soil of 'religion' to pick up its poisonous flower
 
And write their work on banknotes.
The scientists who sell death rays,
They are mobilised:
mobilised under the banner of that wall.
The Wall of Imperialism.

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