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The Village Beauty, by Fattu
Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

Freedom

Freedom from fear is the freedom I claim for you my motherland! Fear, the phantom demon, shaped by your own distorted dreams;

Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head, breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning call of the future;

Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith you fasten yourself in night’s stillness, mistrusting the star that speaks of truth’s adventurous paths;

Freedom from the anarchy of destiny whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds, and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world, where movements are started through brainless wires, repeated through mindless habits, where figures wait with patience and obedience for the master of show, to be stirred into a mimicry of life.

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