Sweet Independence Day,
Why do you let the old wrinkled men
And young men with old shrivelled souls,
Adorn you with grim frowns?
Let them order the children stand
Rigid with chained limbs and frozen salutes,
Instead of dancing with joy
To the tinkling music of laughter?
Why let angry men with puffed up chests
And empty hearts, roar your triumph,
And not let thin poets with thrilling pens,
Whisper lovely sonnets to your sublime beauty?
Why let pompous heavy words
Pin down your airy, soaring wings,
And let soulless, proud tyrants,
Chain you to poles and exult in your fluttering?
Why let them command the plebeians
To dry their throats and parch their souls,
Rather than light up the clouds
With sparks of boisterous joy?
Isn’t that why three young men strung themselves
On the gallows – To uncage your flight,
For you to shed the light of joy and laughter
To the bright-eyed multitude below?