Indesinenter

We knew
a single master
and we've seen how
he became
a dog.
Degraded by his stomach,
by flattery to his stomach,
by fear,
he cowers under the whip
in foolish oblivion of
the right
he has.
Moth-eaten, full
of pests,
he licked unceasingly
the rough hand
which has him tied up
for so long
in the mud.
It would have been
easy for him to make
an impenetrable and high wall
of his silence:
he chose
the great gentle shame
of barking.
We have never been able,
though, to give up hope
of the old defeated one
and in the night we raise
shouts in a song,
for the words overflow
with meaning.
The water, the earth,
the air, the fire
are his,
if he finally takes the chance
of being himself.
He will have to say
enough at once,
to want now
to walk again,
upright, without a break,
forevermore
a man saved among the people,
against the wind.
Saved among the people,
now the master of all;
no cringing dog
but his own master.