freedom is
movement, the flying of arms
the winged hands
fish fingers
we look at it from the severance point of view
the possibility of coming back
for another wholeness
is nil
it is the union with another one distinct from us
like a star to grass
like ships without anchor without any definite port to land
like meteors moving to an uncertain destination
freedom is not a wall
never a pillar
it is the wind always the wind no matter how you try to hold it
with your hands
its escape is its nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem