Here you will find the Poem Our Fear of poet Zbigniew Herbert
Our fear does not wear a night shirt does not have owl?s eyes does not lift a casket lid does not extinguish a candle does not have a dead man?s face either our fear is a scrap of paper found in a pocket `warn Wójcik the place on Dluga Street is hot? our fear does not rise on the wings of the tempest does not sit on a church tower it is down-to-earth it has the shape of a bundle made in haste with warm clothing provisions and arms our fear does not have the face of a dead man the dead are gentle to us we carry them on our shoulders sleep under the same blanket close their eyes adjust their lips pick a dry spot and bury them not too deep not too shallow
