BAHTIYAR HIDAYET
Freedom Is in Chains
(A Letter of Gratitude)
I’m grateful to you, my dog,
In moments of helplessness, in storms of anger—
I take you for a walk,
and somehow, I find peace.
It’s easy for you—
you lick your wounds
and heal yourself.
But I can’t heal mine—
the Ministry of Health
won’t let me.
It’s easy for you—
when lonely, you howl
and express yourself.
But I couldn’t publish myself—
the Ministry of Taxes
didn’t let me.
So you, my loyal dog,
are freer in your chain,
freer in your chain
than I am.
If you can,
lick my wounds too.
But if you could ever
lick my heart—
I’d be grateful
to you all my life.
He ran here and there all day
For a piece of bread.
The asphalt roads were like hell’s cauldron.
Finally, he returned home,
He untied the laces of his shoes —
As if chains were being removed from his feet.
But he could not find peace.
His pockets were like hell’s cauldron,
His hands were suffering the torment of hell.
And his eyes —
His eyes could not look at his children,
His eyes were also suffering the torment of hell.
At home, the cooking pot would be empty again,
As if his heart would cook in the empty pot,
His heart too was suffering the torment of hell.
His head had turned into hell’s cauldron from thoughts,
His brain, too, was suffering the torment of hell.
But he found one comfort —
His feet had been freed from the torment of hell.