To the executioner

Категория: Поэзия
I will not Kneel in front of you, executioner,
Even though I am your prisoner, I am a slave in your prison.
When my time comes — I will die. But be aware: I will die standing up,
Even though you cut my head, villain.
Alas, not a thousand, but a hundred of executioners like you
In a battle I could destroy.
For this I will ask my native land's forgiveness
On my kneels when I come back.
ноября 1943