I gulp down seven drinks of water
several times a day
and all in vain
instinctively
like the criminal to the crime
my childhood returns
in a rousing fit of hiccups
There’s a new dog
who follows me everywhere
I go. He is here now,
under the table. When it’s storming
out he flattens himself onto the floor and will not be moved.
In time, you too will come to learn dear friend, the soft rustle,
Soft whoosh of affection for a city like a lover like a love song: Nairobi, Abuja, Dakar
throbbing in your ribs: Accra, Harare, Port Novo, carving a place for themselves, to nestle
In spite of yourself in the jar
of things you call loved.
In the bird’s long silence I step into the day
like palm trees their song rustles every which way
clearing the air of a bloody past that once held sway
Dress warmer, the road with ice and snow is spread
The winter's severe, the blizzard howls at hand
Your ice chill I take upon my own head
By the road I will wait, stop awhile, my Fatherland!
Everyday I see kind authorities and they get rid of my worries.
I am at peace and at night I watch dances for free.
I do what my friends - mosquitoes, fleas, and bedbugs - say:
the mosquitoes sing and the ticks dance, I watch their play.
The highest Then prince Laan Kaap Kham Vaa
Presented himself and spoke before his father,
Then Luang, who afterwards gave orders
To bedeck the mightiest elephants with trappings of gold.
In this world each mortal creature
Shows our life in form and feature,
From the very dawn of birth;
Even as in a mirror showeth
How the man appeareth, groweth,
And his sad return to earth.
I wade through solitude
to the cottage where we used to
gather to drink rice wine,
enjoying false peace.
I sit under the same palm-leaf roof,
gaze at your chairs
but see no one,
hear only your laughs.
O Fountain of Immanence,
a gem from the Throne itself,
laid on the two hemispheres
of the Seen and the Unseen,
mystery dancing upon the Waters
of Wisdom from ancient Arabia to Mali,
Near to, I could smell the King's scent,
Sweetly rend'ring the air at hand:
The King died, tasteless became the land
He died, and scentless my own fate.