O let me break my slavehood! Link by link
I rend my gyves; not calmly, but with cries
Of anguish, bloody hands and streaming eyes--
In haste, in rage, without a pause to think.
Lo, I am free! and I again may drink
The air of freedom--as yon bird that flies
Straight from the valley to his mountain skies--
And hear no more my shameful fetters clink.
The passion passes; with my own poor hands,
Before the iron has leisure to grow cold,
I trembling gather all the scattered bands;
Refix and rivet each one as of old,
Lest she should wonder where she smiling stands,
Then clank my chains, and proudly cry, 'Behold!'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem