Not the torturer will scare me
Nor the body's final fall
Nor the barrels of death's rifles
Nor the shadows on the wall
Nor the night when to the ground
The last dim star of pain, is hurled
But the blind indifference
Of a merciless, unfeeling world
Lying in the burnt out shell
Of some Albanian farm
An old Babushka
Holds a crying baby in her arms ...