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Instead
of a Tombstone
A poem from the revolution of 1956
Translated from the Hungarian and edited by Watson Kirkconnell
![1956 hungary](x201hung.jpg.pagespeed.ic.3qmhqnURuf.jpg)
He shyly closed the lids of darkened eyes,
a small red flower blossomed on his breast.
A smile still lingered on his mouth’s surprise
as if at home he slept and loved his rest...
The little hero in the filth is laid
(around him fall his bread-loaves in the mud)
just as but now he paced the barricade –
in vain let fall his bomb, and shed his blood...
He shyly closed the lids of darkened eyes,
a small red flower blossomed on his breast.
Beside his corpse a steaming gutter lies.
The world sings victory, but signs a jest.
Thomas Land
If you have any comments on this poem, Thomas Land would
be pleased to hear from you.
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