Poem 044, Sonnet 16: No Spring Poem by Samer Madbak

Alack! There is no spring for me, alack!
My heart is sunken still in wintry slumbers,
Interred beneath the folds of cold Decembers,
How can a digit on some almanac
Proclaim the vernal season, and drive back
A chilling host, a snowy sum of numbers?
How can a breeze upheave the crushing cumbers
That hem my soul with phlegm and yawning lack?
There is no spring! No change unto my state,
No stout volition can metamorphose
A withered shoot into a blooming rose
No sweeping flowerage can animate
A lifeless shape, no, no, there’s no ascension,
I’m trapped fore’er within this bleak dimension!


Zgharta
March 21st 1989