Simbellmyne's utopia

I cannot bear to even think of you,

Like apple-tree, with fruit so heavy,

My hands droop down like in a tragedy,

And then you say: stand tall as freedom’s standing.

I beg then – lock me up, my homeland, inside you,

Like death locks up a song inside the throat,

Or night locks up the evening shadows.

And then you say to me – I am your freedom.

Justinas Marcinkevičius (translation by me)

Today my country celebrates it’s Independence Day. It’s so cold that raising flags hurts your hands, but the sun is shining, people are gathering in squares and for at least one day nobody seems to care about heating bills, gas prices and the newest pop-scandals.