No! All I want is freedom!
Love, glory, and wealth are prisons.
Lovely rooms? Nice furniture? Plush rugs?
Just let me out so I can be with myself.
I want to breathe the air in private.
My heart doesn’t throb collectively,
And I’m unable to feel in jointly held society.
I’m only I, born only as I am, full of nothing but me.
Where do I want to sleep? In the backyard.
Without any walls, just the great conversation,
I and the universe.
And what peace, what relief to fall asleep seeing not the ghost of my wardrobe
But the black and cool splendor of all the stars in concert,
The great and infinite abyss above
Placing its breezes and solaces on the flesh-covered skull that’s my face,
Where only the eyes—another sky—reveal the world of subjective being.