Last night I watched a man have his throat cut.
I know not what was his crime or error.
I know only of the terrible screams, 
and the awful moans of pain and panic.
I am ignorant of any offense
of which this man may have been found guilty.
I know only of the brutality
of the men that, in the name of justice, 
committed this act of foul savagery.
I wondered secretly: “had this poor man, 
his throat wide open and spilling his blood
across the accursed and unhallowed floor, 
truly lived his life by the sword? ” - or was -
this just another example of our 
impious thirst for erroneous law? 
Copyright (C)   MMIV (2004)                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    