You wanted to be free
So that you can lie prostrate
Before the idol
Of freedom…
Slave of an undeserving Lord,
The fetters of freedom are made of fire…
Look at me
I let the fluttering wings of the White Swan
Cool my sky…
Call me a slave
Call me whatever you like
But I submit wholeheartedly to the Rules of flying…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem