outside freedom waits
it is not naked like the way they draw it on paper
or sculpt in marble or mold with the plaster of
Paris,
in fact it is well dressed, light sneakers,
straw hat, and a travel bag,
ready to grab the exit
from here
it is not the opening of any door
or the breaking of seals and locks
it is the ready heart, the opening arms
it is a pair of imaginary wings
but it is calm, well composed
gentle, and
not outspoken.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem