New Year's Eve Poem by Kassim Mohammed Ahmed

Watching the dying year

on its sick bed,

At once am at the riverside, eyes wet.

I have seen it jump into the trees, this wild deer.



After the many days,

He appears to have left too soon,

taking the hopes and aspirations on its tail.

He lived several moons, counting twelve in full.



Now too late.

Too late it is almost so early

to the birth of a new year we make merry

Hence we count with a new date



A dropp of water, then wine on its tongue.

These tunes, similar to those we sang

to the dead year serving little purport

Can they from womb to tomb produce no results?



It's new year's eve

As we bury the dead year in grief,

the dirge so brief, hurrying into the lullaby

this one must do good before it soon dies



It's new year's eve.