The temple of Buddha, even without you, the sea is empty,
the imaginary blue mirage of the
little prince, without flowers and the star of
Venus in the museum, it has an arm,
Don Quixote in the war with the windmill,
the sword of the dream, you gave it to him, the
wounds of Rostam Bi Sohrab
in the skin of the picture of the bad leader in the frame of
freedom, there is nothing sacred except you
, when you are, there is breath and there is no cage,
reaching you is not
everyones job, writing about you is good, but it is not enough, the
pigeons carry letters,
scream again. Freedom, the tip of the fountain
, the one who stole your flame from us, the dinner table, everyone has
taken
justice and swallowed it, we have
crucified you, we draw
your form with shadows, we
write about you on our walls
, freedom,
the opportunity to improve
freedom, go
and rise freedom
,
with all the division
of freedom,
freedom, the
right of man and woman,
freedom, the horn
of the idol breaker
of freedom,
your work, my struggle
for freedom,
Freedom is nothing sacred except
you, when you are, there is a breath and there is no cage,
reaching you is not
everyones job, writing about you is good, but it is not enough.
