I will not leave untaught
I will not leave untaught,
With what color freedom shines.
Not a stranger on this Earth,
But a citizen of the whole planet.
And as truths unfold,
What you feel freedom is, on this corner of the sacred -
This is a mystery I must discover.
In change, malignant in its hidden cunning,
To live freedom now is almost a sin.
Yet, though they try to blind me and steal my words,
I will keep folded a single precious truth:
The color of freedom -
I will recognize it before I depart.
In the depths, where the echo of sadness sings,
The night's foliage murmurs about moments overcome by time and perspective,
And I weave the map of longing on the body of the starred sky.
I beg the light to reveal to me the color of freedom,
To share with me its mystery between passions and struggles.
Where autumn weaves a rusty carpet beneath my searching steps,
And branches shake their display in martyrdom,
On this soil, my roots attempt to taste the essence of truth -
There, somewhere, between the song of a falling leaf,
And the boundless symphony of the universe,
The unfading color of freedom is already born.
So, when they will wish to steal my cries of helplessness,
When they will want to confine me between worlds with darkened walls,
On my chest, I will carry eternally that diaphanous flag,
That with the hidden wind in a morning smile,
Tells me, built into the fiber, that freedom has the color I let flood over me.
Ah, I will know the interweaving of the color of freedom!
On fields of poppies with petals open to the sunrise,
I will write with my trembling hand about its steadfastness,
Guiding with every breath of wind that breaks my flag,
What dream, what echo of truth surrounds me before the infinite.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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