My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,
the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
Riches I hold in esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of Fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn—
And if I Pray, the only prayer
That moves my life for me
Is—‘Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty.’
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
’Tis all that I implore—
Through life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure..!!!