Freedom

It is good to see You
flying there in the abundance of crimson and gold,
amidst the great world,
agleam with the flush of sunlight.
This is why my heart is so full now,
I am moved to tears by the thought:
"You see, You are the patron of mankind,
and the little dignity it has was Your work!"
I, the poet, the dreamy child of solitude,
Your faithful servant,
can once again cry with joy, and You can cry with me,
because there is no other ruler I would serve as faithfully as You.

Whenever I look at the stars I think of those who suffer
in faraway countries, and of the stars
those sufferers can't see,
because You are so far away from them.

My golden Freedom,
what connection is there between Your eternal youth
and man's old age,
between Your free hopes
and man's birds locked away in cages;
between Your humility
and man's arrogance?

My golden Freedom,
while Your reverberant voice still echoes
for the higher spiritual good of mankind,
that modest candle shall still shine in the dark.