Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison

If instead of being hanged by the neck          you're thrown inside          for not giving up hopein the world, your country, your people,          if you do ten or fifteen years          apart from the time you have left,you won't say,              "Better I had swung from the end of a rope                                              like a flag" —You'll put your foot down and live.

It may not be a pleasure exactly,but it's your solemn duty           to live one more day                         to spite the enemy.

Part of you may live alone inside,             like a tone at the bottom of a well.

But the other part          must be so caught up          in the flurry of the world          that you shiver there inside      when outside, at forty days' distance, a leaf moves.

To wait for letters inside,to sing sad songs,or to lie awake all night staring at the ceiling                   is sweet but dangerous.

Look at your face from shave to shave,forget your age,watch out for lice              and for spring nights,     and always remember        to eat every last piece of bread—also, don't forget to laugh heartily.

And who knows,the woman you love may stop loving you.

Don't say it's no big thing:it's like the snapping of a green branch                              to the man inside.

To think of roses and gardens inside is bad,to think of seas and mountains is good.

Read and write without rest,and I also advise weavingand making mirrors.

I mean, it's not that you can't pass    ten or fifteen years inside                        and more —        you can,        as long as the jewel        on the left side of your chest doesn't lose it's luster!                              May

Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)