Prison writing

[fajrdrako]

Interesting passage.....

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Breslau Prison 1917


Here I am lying in a dark cell upon a mattress hard as stone; the
building has its usual churchlike quiet, so that one might as well be
already entombed; through the window there falls across the bed a
glint of light from the candle that burns all night in front of the
prison. At intervals I can hear faintly in the distance the noise of
a passing train or close at hand the dry cough of the prison guard as
in his heavy boots, he takes a few slow strides to stretch his
limbs. The gride of the gravel beneath his feet has so hopeless a
sound that all the weariness and futility of existence seems to be
radiated thereby into the damp and gloomy night. I lie here alone
and in silence, enveloped in the manifold black wrappings of
darkness, tedium, unfreedom, and winter -- and yet my heart beats
with an immeasurable and incomprehensible inner joy, just as if I
were moving in the brilliant sunshine across a flowery mead. And in
the darkness I smile at life, as if I were the possessor of a charm
which would enable me to transform all that is evil and tragical into
serenity and happiness. But when I search my mind for the cause of
this joy, I find there is no cause, and can only laugh at myself -- I
believe that the key to the riddle is simply life itself, this deep
darkness of night is soft and beautiful as velvet, if only one looks
at it in the right way. The gride of the damp gravel beneath the
slow and heavy tread of the prison guard is likewise a lovely little
song of life -- for one who has ears to hear.

--Rosa Luxemburg

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I was told that Rosa Luxemburg was executed by the Nazis, but that must have been much later.