Man is born free and virtuous through,
But chains himself to vice that woos.
Below the heart for without license,
Like a double burning stick of incense.
Breathed and forgotten like a book.
So seldom this that took,
Freedom and chained the worm upon the hook.
For not without bite, in spite I sit and wait for walls that shake.
And earth and mind to quake, to not forsake what\'s right.