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| Sad Freedom |
| You sell out - your eyes' alertness, |
| the radiance of your hands. |
| You knead the dough of the bread of life, |
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yet never taste a slice. |
| You are a slave working in your great freedom. |
| You are free, |
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with the freedom to suffer hell |
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to make Croesus rich. |
| As soon as you're born work and worry |
| like windmills of lies are planted in your head. |
| You hold your head in your hands |
| in your great freedom. |
| You are free, |
| in your freedom of conscience! |
| You are decapitated. |
| Your arms loll at your sides. |
| You wander the streets in your great freedom. |
| You are free, |
| in your great freedom of being out of work! |
| Wall Street grabs you by the scruff of your neck. |
| One day they could send you to Korea. |
| You could fill a pit with your great freedom. |
| You are free |
| with the freedom of being the unknown soldier. |
| You say you should live like a human being, |
| not a tool, a number, a means to an end. |
| They clap on the hadcuffs in your great freedom. |
| You are free, |
| in your freedom to be arrested, |
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to go into prison, even be hanged. |
| In your life there are no iron, |
| bamboo or lace curtains. |
| There's no need to choose freedom: |
| you are free. |
| This freedom is a sad thing beneath the stars. |
| Translated by Richard McKane. |
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