At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfilment.You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle your eyes.And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

Єсть на світі доля, А хто її знає? Єсть на світі воля, А хто її має? Єсть люде на світі — Сріблом-злотом сяють, Здається, панують, А долі не знають,— Ні долі, ні волі! З нудьгою та з горем Жупан надівають, А плакати — сором. Возьміть срібло-злото Та будьте багаті, А я візьму сльози — Лихо виливати; Затоплю недолю Дрібними сльозами, Затопчу неволю Босими ногами! Тоді я веселий, Тоді я багатий, Як буде серденько По волі гуляти!

And I Decided (From Arabic)And I decided to goRound the world on freedom's bicycleBy ways illegalAs the travels of wind.When asked for my addressI give the address of all sidewalksI chose as permanent residence.When asked for my papers,I show them your eyesAnd am allowed to passFor they know that travel in the cities of your eyes, my dear,Is the right of all world citizens. وقررتنزار قبانيوقررتأن أطوفَ العالمَ على درّاجة الحرِّية..وبنفسِ الطريقةِ غيرِ الشرعيِّةالتي تستعملها الريح عندما تسافر..وإذا سأَلونيعن عُنوانيأعطيتُهم عنوانَ كلِّ الأرصِفةالتي اخترتها مكاناً دائماً لإقامتي.وإذا سألوني عن أوراقيأريتُهُم عينيكِ، يا حبيبتي..فَتَرَكوني أمرّ..لأنهم يعرفونَ أنَّ السفر في مدائن عينيكِ..من حق جميع المواطينَ في العالم

И всегда будут короли, более или менее жестокие, бароны, более или менее дикие, и всегда будет невежественный народ, питающий восхищение к своим угнетателям и ненависть к своему освободителю. И все потому, что раб гораздо лучше понимает своего господина, пусть даже самого жестокого, чем своего освободителя, ибо каждый раб отлично представляет себя на месте господина, но мало кто представляет себя на месте бескорыстного освободителя.

وقتی ضعف و انکسار ملت خود را دیدم، دانستم که ما ناگزیریم با سلاح وقت مسلح شویم و آن آموختن تمام علوم امروزی بود، وگرنه ما را جزو ملل وحشی می‌شمردند و برما آقائی را روا می دیدند، و آموختن آن اگر به‌زبان خارجی بود البته میسر نمی‌شد[...] پس بایستی آن علوم و فنون را ما ترجمه کنیم و در دسترس مکاتب بگذاریم و این میسر نمی‌شود جز بدین‌که اول لغات خود را بدانیم و این کار نوشتن لغت‌نامه‌ای شامل و کافل ِ تمام لغات را، لازم داشت. این بود که به‌فکر تدوین لغت‌نامه افتادم.

The stars are brilliant at this time of night and I wander these streets like a ritual I don’t dare to break for darling, the times are quite glorious.I left him by the water’s edge,still waving long after the ship was goneand if someone would have screamed my name I wouldn’t have heard for I’ve said goodbye so many times in my short life that farewells are a muscular task and I’ve taught them well. There’s a place by the side of the railway near the lake where I grew up and I used to go there to burry things and start anew. I used to go there to say goodbye. I was young and did not know many people but I had hidden things inside that I never dared to show and in silence I tried to kill them, one way or the other,leaving sin on my body scrubbing tears off with saltand I built my rituals in farewells. Endings I still cling to. So I go to the ocean to say goodbye.He left that morning, the last words still echoing in my headand though he said he’d come back one day I know a broken promise from a right onefor I have used them myself and there is no coming back.Minds like ours are can’t be tamed and the price for freedom is the price we pay.I turned away from the oceanas not to fall for its pleafor it used to seduce and consume meand there was this one nighta few years back and I was not yet accustomed to farewellsand just like now I stood waving long after the ship was gone.But I was younger then and easily fooledand the ocean was deep and dark and blueand I took my shoes off to let the water freeze my bones.I waded until I could no longer walk and it was too cold to swim but still I kept on walking at the bottom of the sea for I could not tell the difference between the ocean and the lack of someone I loved and I had not yet learned how the task of moving on is as necessary as survival.Then days passed by and I spent them with my work and now I’m writing letters I will never dare to send.But there is this one day every year or sowhen the burden gets too heavyand I collect my belongings I no longer needand make my way to the ocean to burn and drown and start anewand it is quite wonderful, setting fire to my chains and flames on written wordsand I stand there, starring deep into the heat until they’re all gone. Nothing left to hold me back.You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains wrapped around my veins,and if you see a fire from the shore tonightit’s my chains going up in flames. The time of moon i quite glorious. We could have been so glorious.

سماعاً بني العرب الاكرمين ... اُباة التواني حماة الذممأفيقوا فمن نام عن حقه... عراه الأذى ولواه العدمرعى الله شعباً يريد العلى... ويطلبها تحت خفق العلمإذا لم نقم قومة حرة... ونرجع عهدا طواه القدمفأين الفخار الذي ندعي... وأين الإباء وأين الكرمفتى الشعر هذا مجال قرير... فنادي الإباء ونادي الشيمونادي الشباب كبار النفوس... ونادي الشباب عماد الأممفلا أمل اليوم إلا بهم... لأن الشباب عماد الأمموقل لبني العُرب لا تيأسوا... فإن الهموم ستحُي الهمموإن المقام على الضيم عار... ولا يغسل العار إلا بدمولابد من نهضة للعلى...بها ترفع العرب ذاك العلم

It is the fate of great achievements, born from a way of life that sets truth before security, to be gobbled up by you and excreted in the form of shit. For centuries great, brave, lonely men have been telling you what to do. Time and again you have corrupted, diminished and demolished their teachings; time and again you have been captivated by their weakest points, taken not the great truth, but some trifling error as your guiding principal. This, little man, is what you have done with Christianity, with the doctrine of sovereign people, with socialism, with everything you touch. Why, you ask, do you do this? I don't believe you really want an answer. When you hear the truth you'll cry bloody murder, or commit it. … You had your choice between soaring to superhuman heights with Nietzsche and sinking into subhuman depths with Hitler. You shouted Heil! Heil! and chose the subhuman. You had the choice between Lenin's truly democratic constitution and Stalin's dictatorship. You chose Stalin's dictatorship. You had your choice between Freud's elucidation of the sexual core of your psychic disorders and his theory of cultural adaptation. You dropped the theory of sexuality and chose his theory of cultural adaptation, which left you hanging in mid-air. You had your choice between Jesus and his majestic simplicity and Paul with his celibacy for priests and life-long compulsory marriage for yourself. You chose the celibacy and compulsory marriage and forgot the simplicity of Jesus' mother, who bore her child for love and love alone. You had your choice between Marx's insight into the productivity of your living labor power, which alone creates the value of commodities and the idea of the state. You forgot the living energy of your labor and chose the idea of the state. In the French Revolution, you had your choice between the cruel Robespierre and the great Danton. You chose cruelty and sent greatness and goodness to the guillotine. In Germany you had your choice between Goring and Himmler on the one hand and Liebknecht, Landau, and Muhsam on the other. You made Himmler your police chief and murdered your great friends. You had your choice between Julius Streicher and Walter Rathenau. You murdered Rathenau. You had your choice between Lodge and Wilson. You murdered Wilson. You had your choice between the cruel Inquisition and Galileo's truth. You tortured and humiliated the great Galileo, from whose inventions you are still benefiting, and now, in the twentieth century, you have brought the methods of the Inquisition to a new flowering. … Every one of your acts of smallness and meanness throws light on the boundless wretchedness of the human animal. 'Why so tragic?' you ask. 'Do you feel responsible for all evil?' With remarks like that you condemn yourself. If, little man among millions, you were to shoulder the barest fraction of your responsibility, the world would be a very different place. Your great friends wouldn't perish, struck down by your smallness.

وتتبدّل الأحوال ويقف المسلم موقف المغلوب المجّرد من القوة المادية، فلا يفارقه شعوره بأنّه الأعلى، وينظر إلى غالِبِه من عل ما دام مؤمنا، ويستيقن أنها فترة وتمضي، وإن للإيمان كرّة لا مفر منها، وهبها كانت القاضية فإنّه لا يحني لها رأسا، النّاس كلهم يموتون أما هو فيستشهد، وهو يغادر هذه الأرض إلى الجنة، وغالِبه يغادرها إلى النار، وشتان شتان، وهو يسمع نداء ربه الكريم: {لا يغرنك تقلب الذين كفروا في البلاد، متاع قليل ثم مأواهم جهنم وبئس المهاد، لكن الذين اتقوا ربهم لهم جنات تجري من تحتها الأنهار خالدين فيها نزلا من عند الله وما عند الله خير للأبرار} [آل عمران: 196 - 198].

I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you; who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines, you are not cattle, you are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don't hate! Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers! Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of St. Luke, it is written that the kingdom of God is within man, not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people, have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let us use that power. Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill that promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world! To do away with national barriers! To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers, in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

بيـدٍ أغلقُ أبوابَ جراحـي * ويدي الأخرى على باب الصبـاحنصل سفاح على حنجرتي * وعلى وجهي تهاويل الأضـاحـيقبضة الجبهة لا تـمهـلـنـي * لـحظة.. مــا بيـن ذبـح وانـذبـاحأنــا أوجـاع ملايـيـن صحت * فصحْت غضبة حـق مستبــاحمن رخام الأمس دوى ألمي* يا سدود انتظري دَين اكتساحيأبذر الشمس على مستقبلي * واشج بالليل عن فضل وشاحيفاضربوا أوتاركم في وطني * إنها لعبة قش ورياححرموا الدوح على بلبله * وأبيحوا لكمو غير المباحسأكيل الصاع بالصاعين لكم * ناقلاً ناري من ساح لساحمخلب الصقر أنا قلمته * أمس. فليكبر على حد سلاحيتتحدى زهرتي دبايةً * فاسحقوها، تزدهر كل بطاحيمن محيطي لخليجي لم يزل * صاعداً يكتسح الموت جناحيوطني جنة عدني، وأنا * حارس الجنة من كف وقاحوأرى حولي رؤوساً أينعت * وانا قاطفها باسم جراحيغضبي يحرق من يشعله * غضبي القادم ريحاً بلقاحفافهموا يا سادتي، أخبركم * انني صاح، أعيد القول، صاحألف هولاكو أنا أغرقتهم * في دياجيري، واطلعت صباحيينتهي العدوان غيماً عابرا * وأنا أبقى، وحبي، وكفاحي.

ان الحقيقة، في اهتمامات الحياة العملية الكبرى، هي مسألة التوفيق بين المتناقضات والتجميع بينها، بحيث أن القليل جداً من الناس يمتلكون عقولاً واسعة وحيادية ليقوموا بالتكيف مع المقاربة من الصواب، ولابد من ذلك عن طريق عملية الصراع الفض بين المتقاتلين اللذين يحاربون تحت رايات متناحرة في أي من المسائل المفتوحة والمطروحة للجدل.اذا ما كان لدى أي من الرأيين حجة أقوى من الآخر، ليس فقط في أن يجري تحمّله، بل لكي يُشجَع ويُقبَل، فانه ذلك الرأي الذي صادف أنه في زمان ومكان معينين كان لدى أقلية. وذلك هو الرأي الذي يمثل في المرحلة الحالية المصالح المهملة، ذلك الجانب من الحالة البشرية المهددة بنيل اقل من حصتها.انني مدرك بأنه ليس هناك، في هذا البلد، اي تعصب ضد الاختلافات في الرأي في معظم المواضيع . لقد قُدمت لأجل ان تبين، عبر أمثلة متعددة ومقبولة، شمولية الحقيقة القائلة بأنه ليس هناك فرصة للعب النظيف لكل أطراف الحقيقة إلا من خلال تنوع الآراء.عندما يمكننا ايجاد بعض الاشخاص، اللذين يشكلون استثناءً للاجماع الظاهري للعالم حول أي موضوع، حتى لو كان العالم على صواب، فانه من المعقول دائماً ان يكون لدى المعارضين شيئاً يستحق الاستماع إليه ليقولونه لأنفسهم، وآن تفقد الحقيقة شيئاً من خلال صمتهم.‫#‏عنـالحرية‬ لجون ستيوارت ميل

Внезапно над городом тяжело прогрохотал гром. По листве забарабанили тяжелые капли. Равик встал. Он видел, как улица вскипела фонтанчиками черного серебра. Дождь запел, теплые крупные капли били ему в лицо. И вдруг Равик перестал сознавать, жалок он или смешон, страдает или наслаждается… Он знал лишь одно – он жив. Жив! Да, он жил, существовал, жизнь вернулась и сотрясала его, он перестал быть зрителем, сторонним наблюдателем. Величественное ощущение бытия забушевало в нем, как пламя в домашней печи, ему было почти безразлично, счастлив он или несчастлив. Важно одно: он жил, полнокровно ощущал все, и этого было довольно!Он стоял под ливнем, низвергавшимся на него, словно пулеметный огонь с неба. Он стоял под ливнем и был сам ливнем, и бурей, и водой, и землей… Молнии, прилетавшие откуда-то из неведо – мой выси, перекрещивались в нем; он был частицей разбушевавшейся стихии. Вещи утратили названия, разъединявшие их, и все стало единым и слитным – любовь, низвергающаяся вода, бледные сполохи над крышами, как бы вздувшаяся земля – и все это принадлежало ему, он сам был словно частицей всего этого… Счастье и несчастье казались теперь чем-то вроде пустых гильз, далеко отброшенных могучим желанием жить и чувствовать, что живешь.