The Awakening

I

I paid attention to yesterday’s promises

To my own peril; a furious flood carried

My hope to its tomb; it was buried.

II

Words in the mouth of an orator tickle

The ear; but in its sweetness hides a bitter pill.

Since empty words began to torment tender hearts

Like mine, every honey hosts and hides its bitterness.

 

When words sound like the chewing of kolanuts,

Think not that its taste is sublime. It holds no life.

It comes like the whistling of pinewoods as whirlwinds

Display their macabre dance; disaster accompanies the ticklish whistle.

III

When evil is laced with sweet tunes,

And every ear is forced to listen; I pay no attention.

Its bitter lesson leaves a scar on all my senses.

Now, I still hold vengeance in my palms.

 

Here I am, waiting for the passage of this

Sorrowful night; for I drowned thrice in

Its pool of torments filled with vain promises.

This trouble shall not see a new dawn.

IV

The night has made her passage,

Now, a blissful morning summons.

I’ve thrown away yesterday’s trouble

With its used waters; freshness rests ashore.