God gave you your daughter
For such a little while;
He put a bit of heaven
In the sunshine of her smile.
He took dust from
The brightest twinkling stars
And made her sparkling eyes;
And now, she’s gone back home to God,
To play up in the skies.
And though she left so quickly
That your hearts are grieved and sad,
We know she lives with God
And her small heart is glad.
And though your precious darling
Was just a rosebud small;
She’ll bloom in all her beauty
On the other side of the wall.


ለጥቂት ጊዜ

እግዚአብሔር አላችሁ
“ሚጡን ለጊዜው እንካችሁ!”
አቤት ከንፈርዋ ሲፈለቀቅ፣
የፀሐይ ጮራ ሲለቅ፣
ናሙና የገነት፣ የታተመበት!
ደሞም ሰራ፣
ዘግኖ አቧራ፣
ከብሩህ ከዋክብት፣
ዓይኖች የሚረጩ
የቀለም እርችት!
ግልፅ ነው እንደምትኖር፣
ከእግዚአብሔር ጋር፣
ደሞም እናውቅ፣
ትንሻ ልቧ
በሐሴት እንደምትጥለቀለቅ!
ምንም እንኳ ውድ ልጃችሁ
ብትሆንም ለጋ እንቡጥ ፅጌረዳ፣
እርግጥ ነው በስቲያ ከዛኛው ግርግዳ፣
ደምቃ እንደምትፈነዳ!
(በሔለን ስቲነር ራይስ)

It is unfair
A barber's son should
Go with matted hair!

How come Ethiopia,
Africa's water tower,
Suffer for its crops
A timely reviving shower!

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is ******, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.


በጨለማ ውስጥ

ከጥግጥግ ከከበበኝ
ድቅድቅ ጨለማ
ለማይበገረው መንፈሴ
ለአምላክ ያለህ የምስጋና ዜማ
ነኝ የማሰማ፣
ሑኔታዎች ቢያሸርቡም
ተሰቅቄ አልጮህኩም፣
የፈለገውን እኩይ ጣጣ
ራስ ላይ የሚወጣ
ቢሆንም እጣ
ይዞ የሚመጣ
ብናድድም ግና አቀርቅሬ
ወይ ተመርሬ ኣላውቅም!
ከዚያ የንዴትና የእንባ
ባድማ ባሻገር
ይታየኛል የመከራ ጥላ
የወረረው መንደር!
አንድ ወቅት ለሌላ
ከነግሳንግሱ
ቢሆንም የሚለቅ ተራ፣
ዘመን ያገኘኛል
ከአይበገሬዎች ጎራ
ሆኜ መጻኢ እጣዬን የማልፈራ!
መሃንዲሰ ነኝ
እጣዬን የምቀይር ቀጥቅጬ፣
የነፍሴን መርከብ
መሪ ጨብጬ!
(ዊሊያም እርነሰት ሔንሊይ) //

The joy you provided me
transports me to
floating fossils,
swollen tonsils,
and hearing aids
that kept you within an ear's length.

I remember water;
I remember the way that making blood colder
was an antidote to growing older.

When you grew old,
I recognized that sandpaper shows
beauty in rigidity,
and even the tough

show fragility.

Taste buds and rewired pathways
helped write the book,
but nothing will ever parallel
the compensation,
softness and
comfort
that sandpaper provided my skin.