Freedom

On the table only a slice of bread and a mug of water.
«Again», — he has thought, — «again the same»,
Without the right to make a choice, without the right to have the vote.
A lot of years has passed since he appeared here,
The strength has almost left him
Enchained by his soul, enchained by his body, He couldn’t move,
In the hands of the jigger he was a stooge.
Once he has woken up from the strange dream
Which was tantalizing him everyday.
He has never seen what’s outside and everynight
He was dreaming how he flies in the sky.
I should, I believe.
This was the last what he has scrolled at his head.
After long, painful days in seclusion,
He strang himself to break off chains.
Flying up to heavens, rending the clouds,
Hovering over the earth, with a smile on the face,
He was fliyng away through many years