Chains on our brains
Little thimble sized brackets on our rainbow drained fingertips,
Numb and dry
The sweet juices of the red-breeze’s kisses drained
Jingling and shaking, cool grey
Slates of grey and black
Chains, clank against the shining silver of my desk.
My survey of literature
Surveys the tablet of rules
Steers the mind to a stupefying safeness.
Monotone silence bounces off my horrified eyes bulging.
My survey of literature
Captures the canary in a beautiful cage of gold.
It marvels at its song
While ignoring its pleas for release.
My survey of literature class
Doesn’t realize the flutter of a song sang from lungs full of honey-like euphoric air,
Is better and sweeter than the empty sighs of a prisoner.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'the flutter of a song sang from lungs full of honey-like euphoric air' nature as freedom in verse is a freedom of the soul