If There Were No Executioners, There Would

If You Ever Get Twenty-five Years For Nothing, If You Find Yourself Wearing Four Number Patches On Your Clothes, Holding Your Hands Permanently Behind Your Back, Submitting To Searches Morning And Evening, Working Until You Are Utterly Exhausted, Dragged Into The Cooler Whenever Someone Denounces You, Trodden Deeper And Deeper Into The Ground-from The Hole You're In, The Fine Words Of The Great Humanists Will Sound Like The Chatter Of The Well-fed And Free.

Blow The Dust Off The Clock. Your Watches Are Behind The Times. Throw Open The Heavy Curtains Which Are So Dear To You - You Do Not Even Suspect That The Day Has Already Dawned Outside.

Art Thaws Even The Frozen, Darkened Soul, Opening It To Lofty Spiritual Experience.

You Should Rejoice That You're In Prison. Here You Have Time To Think About Your Soul.

I Dare Hope That All The Peoples Who Have Lived Through Communism Will Understand That Communism Is To Blame For The Bitter Pages Of Their History.