My Throat Sings Not More Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
My Throat Sings Not More
There will soon
come
a time
when my throat
sings not more
nor my chant
verse or verse
bring forth.
No, soon.
Already
the dryness in my Soul
already
the desert parchedness in my
mouth.
The time is come
as comes for other things
Always unfortunate, working
suffering
Out of the sweet waters of life
I drank but little
Others drank to almost surfeiting.
there will soon
come
a time
when my throat
sings not more
nor my chant
verse or verse
bring forth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 6:30:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a sad poem. Not only does the poem recognize the gradual winding down of anything organic - a fly, a beast, a voice, a person. That's a natural process. But to know in advance as we humans do that this process cannot be stopped and will lead to death is a burden to carry. It's amazing we don't get all hot and bothered and carry on. But instead we are poised, reserved, patient