A feather fell off the wing
Ending its flight.

Dipping it in ink
I was beginning
To write a poem about freedom .

I hear it speak:
The feather never knows freedom
As it's fastened to the wing
And goes where the wing takes it
And folds when it does.

The wing also knows no freedom
As it is fixed to the bird's body
And must be tired
Going where bird goes.

The body too knows no freedom
As it is under the imprisonment of the mind.

Don't think the mind knows freedom
As the mind itself is enslaved to the soul forever.
And the soul is also not know absolute freedom
As it tied to eternity.

So where is pure freedom?
Do not know.

I hold the feather
Between my trembling fingers
And complete the nonsense poem
'Freedom'

Translated by Zahira Rahman