for Witek Piatkowski <br />They beat him all day, and the next. Nothing doing. <br />They beat him 'round the clock, all week. <br />'Talk, talk,' they shouted, 'we know everything! <br />We know your alias! And your name!' <br />They showed his ID, banged his head on the table. <br />'Say just one sentence! just one word!' <br />They showed him his passport, foreign visas, <br />books and secret documents from the lining of his suitcase, <br />but then when they showed him his English tommy gun <br />he said, 'take away the tablecloth, I'm going to throw up.' <br />That's all he said. He was black and blue. <br />They took him to Majdanek, locked him behind the wire. <br />At night he cut the wire, escaped right under the sentries' eyes. <br />What use is glory if this memory dies?<br /><br />Tadeusz Borowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-interrogation/
