They call it freedom,
I call it a curse,
Sure contagious it has become,
There dreams are nightmares,
And satisfaction to them illusionary,
Away they look,
For help they now seek,
Yes! Freedom it is,
Disowning your destiny,
You embrace you can`t hold it,
Forever you seek,
What you hold is stick,
And a painful whack! ! You will lick,
Your pride is like a peacock`s,
But the whole glory is for God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem