A Ballad About The Slave

       In that bad day his horse was killed,
       His armour's broken off.
       The enemies have pierced his shield
       And swords were blunted off.
       Then he was bounded by the rope,
       His feet were shackled on
       And lashed by knouts without a hope,-
       So tortures has begun.
       But he has snarled like that wild beast
       Who's been got in a trap.
       He cried bad words and shook his fist
       And had a mortal scrap.
       So they have wrenched his bitter tongue
       And knocked him down the cave.
       They made him bad, they made him wrong
       And turn into the slave.
       They need his silence till the end
       Of longest future days,
       They need obedience of his land
       And power in his case.
       He's known the fetters in that life,
       The whips and sale for rags.
       But he could stand, he could survive
       And took the spear in hands.
       So then he shouted and the world
       Could listen that one shout.
       It's been the moment as the gold
       Which never ever out.
       And that one slave has been so strong
       That anyone could see.
       And he's been superfree among
       The freedomloving sea.