Poem
I’m inside the advancing light,
my hands are hungry, the world beautiful.
My eyes can’t get enough of the trees —
they’re so hopeful, so green.
A sunny road runs through the mulberries,
I’m at the window of the prison infirmary.
I can’t smell the medicines —
carnations must be blooming somewhere.
It’s like this:
being captured is beside the point,
the point is not to surrender.
~ Nazim Hikmet (translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk)