Freedom has asked its favour unto you now,
Free people do not ask questions,
But the enslaved will complain in their hearts,
And the hearts will be chained,
And the heat collides with stars.
Freedom of the galaxy is freer than earthly
Needs, there is liberty in the stars.
One is station, one is concern for the concert,
For let the music be musical,
And let the stars bespeak so as to glare.
The pitch is dark, the music is magical,
For heat is the song of the heavens
In this starless commotion we call the world
At night; the night is alive more than creatures
That walk in the darkness, so music touches.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem