There's revolution in the air
And rebellion in the rock
The posh language of freedom
Is used in every talk
Broadened is the mind
Influenced is the soul
And philosophy has been found
In every smelly sock
Where is the flag that once fluttered high?
On the wind that was free, where birds used to fly
It is damp and cold, and soiled with dirt
For it is used by housemaids, to wash the unclean earth
Withered are the trees
Crumbled are the leaves
And ‘great' leaders denounce
The dirt on the streets
Rusted are the hinges
On glazed french doors
And though the steps are broken
Of marble are the floors
Though shrill is the noise
And loud is the clanging
The deaf remain unaware
Of the world that is changing
The fire has been smothered, and the thirst has been quenched,
By petrol and diesel, and the salty taste of sweat
‘Freedom' is in fashion, and rebellion is in vogue
But unburdened are the noose and the hangman's rope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem