The Poems of Prisoners

During the time i was in the labor camp, one fourth of the men, plitical prisoners, died out. We at least could eat dandelions, which helped, because no fruit and fresh vegetables were allowed at all. The openle promised all of us that none of us would be able to have children after that. I am still very happy that those who tortured us were wrong. And all that time in prison, you were secretly writing poetry, weren't you, on bits of soap so you could wash it away? You managed to smuggle them out. My husband used to send me letters written on the special paper made of rice. There were whole link of people who