I want no fine phrases,
only one word is left for me,
when I fall on the couch I say: no,
and when I dream I suddenly cry: no,
and when I wake I say again: no.
This is my form of defiance,
it makes me healthy and stubborn.
Even when I am tired
I can still say the word: no,
and when everyone is saying: yes,
I guffaw that little word: no.
With this word I control the situation,
it’s my form of affirmation,
it makes me clear-headed and cruel.
I am kin to the roots and the shoots,
to ruthless tempests and breezes,
computer printouts are shredded
by my brief word: no.
The calculation always has to begin again,
when they say I am guilty
my actions say I am innocent.
The law of freedom of the human mind
is like the quiet defense of ancient rights,
a command to the clown is a prohibition,
I don’t want to be a madman or monster,
I get hoarse amidst the din of machines,
from mountain to mountain nine echoes of: no
are heard by my neighbor as: yes.
(Edvard Kocbek)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Cry Poems, Law & Regulation Poems, Liberty & Freedom Poems, Computers & Technology PoemsBased on Keywords: calculation, shredded, prohibition, guffaw, clear-headed