Freedom of expression – Mayakovsky

The first night
They approach
And pick a flower from our garden
And we don’t say anything.
The second night,
No longer hiding, they
Stomp on the flowers, kill our dog,
And we don’t say anything.
Until one day
The weakest of them
Enters our house alone
Robs us of light, and,
Knowing our fear,
Take the voice from our throats.
And because we said nothing,
We no longer can say anything


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