In the Age of Sophistication

The poem ā āIn the Age of Sophisticationā O, free me up, free me up ā I can no more stay fettered; With the cute avian club, I want the chains to get battered. Poetry, my only means of communication, Gifts me love and liberty; Societyās full of every instigation; Satan tries to confine me. The most pathetic music Does sound the most melodious; This life, though tragic, Gifts me my pain, familiar and joyous. Love comes more naturally than Hate To each one of us, humankind; Why then do we sophisticate Our life that turns us blind? Donāt you smile in joy? Donāt you weep in pain? Why then hide, my boy? Why do people call us insane? To bring the true feeling and Act accordingly is sheer honesty; Why do we then reprimand? Why do we lose our modesty? We belittle people; But why? Why? Why? Does that rumour ripple Our hearts with joy, Or do we have to sigh? Can sadi...