Sad Poems: A Sad State Of Freedom - Poem by Nazim Hikmet

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A Sad State Of Freedom - Poem by Nazim Hikmet

You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
you are free to slave for others--
you are free to make the rich richer.

The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.

Your head bent as if half-cut from the nape,
your arms long, hanging,
your saunter about in your great freedom:
you're free
with the freedom of being unemployed.

You love your country
as the nearest, most precious thing to you.
But one day, for example,
they may endorse it over to America,
and you, too, with your great freedom--
you have the freedom to become an air-base.

You may proclaim that one must live
not as a tool, a number or a link
but as a human being--
then at once they handcuff your wrists.
You are free to be arrested, imprisoned
and even hanged.

There's neither an iron, wooden
nor a tulle curtain
in your life;
there's no need to choose freedom:
you are free.
But this kind of freedom
is a sad affair under the stars.


Translated by Taner Baybars


Comments about A Sad State Of Freedom by Nazim Hikmet

  • Gold Star - 15,796 Points Adeeb Alfateh (6/24/2019 4:03:00 AM)

    There's neither an iron, wooden
    nor a tulle curtain
    in your life;
    there's no need to choose freedom:
    you are free.
    But this kind of freedom
    is a sad affair under the stars.


    it's a great poem
    great expression
    excellent thoughtful writings
    great 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++x10
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie chisom (5/22/2019 12:56:00 PM)

    nice work (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie Amadeus (2/12/2018 9:37:00 AM)

    That speaks to my current lifestyle ever since i have been unemployed i got arrested 7 times (Report) Reply

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Veteran Poet - 1,698 Points Wilson Waison (1/13/2018 5:00:00 AM)

    NYC piece of art. Thanks for sharing, you might also check with mine entitled motherland (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 698,821 Points Edward Kofi Louis (2/12/2015 4:07:00 AM)

    Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

    E.K.L.
    (Report) Reply

    9 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
Sad Poems
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  2. 2. A Fairly Sad Tale
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  3. 3. ‘and Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream?’
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  4. 4. Be Not Sad
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  5. 5. The Sad Mother
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  6. 6. A Sad State Of Freedom
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  7. 7. Sad In Blue (A Lyric)
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  8. 8. My Sad Captains
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  10. 10. For A Sad Lady
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  11. 11. To A Sad Daughter
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  12. 12. In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad
    Alfred Edward Housman
  13. 13. Sad Green Eyes
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  14. 14. Baseball's Sad Lexicon
    Franklin Pierce Adams
  15. 15. Sit Down, Sad Soul
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  16. 16. Sad-Eyed And Soft And Grey
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  17. 17. With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb's..
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  18. 18. Close Those Sad Sad Eyes
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  19. 19. To The Sad Moon
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  20. 20. Bored And Sad
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  27. 27. Phantasmagoria Canto Vii ( Sad Souvenaun..
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  28. 28. The Lacking Sense Scene.--A Sad-Coloured..
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  29. 29. Sonnet Xxxi: With How Sad Steps, O Moon
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  30. 30. Sad Sad Day
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  31. 31. I Sing A Sad Song
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  40. 40. The Sad Shepherd
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  41. 41. ! ! A Sad Tale Of Consumerism
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Sad Poems

  1. A Sad Child

    You're sad because you're sad. It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget. Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it was that was done to you the day of the lawn party when you came inside flushed with the sun, your mouth sulky with sugar, in your new dress with the ribbon and the ice-cream smear, and said to yourself in the bathroom, I am not the favorite child. My darling, when it comes right down to it and the light fails and the fog rolls in and you're trapped in your overturned body under a blanket or burning car, and the red flame is seeping out of you and igniting the tarmac beside your head or else the floor, or else the pillow, none of us is; or else we all are.

  2. Be Not Sad

    Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again -- - Can they dishonour you? They are sadder than all tears; Their lives ascend as a continual sigh. Proudly answer to their tears: As they deny, deny.

  3. A Fairly Sad Tale

    I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass, The tenderness of April grass, The durability of granite; But me- I don't know how to plan it. The lads I've met in Cupid's deadlock Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock. They broke my heart, they stilled my song, And said they had to run along, Explaining, so to sop my tears, First came their parents or careers. But ever does experience Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense! Though she's a fool who seeks to capture The twenty-first fine, careless rapture, I must go on, till ends my rope, Who from my birth was cursed with hope. A heart in half is chaste, archaic; But mine resembles a mosaic- The thing's become ridiculous! Why am I so? Why am I thus?

  4. The Sad Mother

    Sleep, sleep, my beloved, without worry, without fear, although my soul does not sleep, although I do not rest. Sleep, sleep, and in the night may your whispers be softer than a leaf of grass, or the silken fleece of lambs. May my flesh slumber in you, my worry, my trembling. In you, may my eyes close and my heart sleep.

  5. ‘and Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream?’

    'And ask ye why these sad tears stream?' ‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’ OVID. And ask ye why these sad tears stream? Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping? I had a dream–a lovely dream, Of her that in the grave is sleeping. I saw her as ’twas yesterday, The bloom upon her cheek still glowing; And round her play’d a golden ray, And on her brows were gay flowers blowing. With angel-hand she swept a lyre, A garland red with roses bound it; Its strings were wreath’d with lambent fire And amaranth was woven round it. I saw her mid the realms of light, In everlasting radiance gleaming; Co-equal with the seraphs bright, Mid thousand thousand angels beaming. I strove to reach her, when, behold, Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian, And all that rich scene wrapt in gold, Faded in air–a lovely vision! And I awoke, but oh! to me That waking hour was doubly weary; And yet I could not envy thee, Although so blest, and I so dreary.

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