(1 December 1893 – 22 May 1939 / Samotschin / Poland)

What do you think this poem is about?

November

Cities are so far away, humans live there.
The knot chokes at your throat, a gray
horror caresses your limbs. Who will freedom behold?
When, at last, will the grubs rise up?

Submitted: Friday, March 30, 2012
Edited: Friday, March 30, 2012


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