Had I not relished
What I had long cherished
Had I not tasted
And grew out of
What success has in store
Going past  its door,
I would have
squandered my life
With a carcinogenic self pity
For failing to cross floor.

What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Nor gave my heart a song.
But oh, to him I loved,
Who loved me not at all,
I owe the open gate
That leads through heaven’s wall!
(By Sara Teasdale)

እዳ

በደንብ ጠበቅ አድርገህ ላፈቀርከኝ
የምከፍለው ምን ወሮታ አለኝ?
ለነፍሴ ክንፍ አለገስካት
ለልቤም መዝሙር አልሰጠሃት፣
ግን፣ ውይ፣ ለወደድኩት ላላፈቀረኝ፣
ዕዳ አለብኝ፣ በሩን ያለው ከፈት፣
በግድግዳወ አርጎ ሠተት
የሚያዘልቅ ወደ ገነት!

(ሳራ ቲሰዳል) /

.

He doesn't realise...
The weight of his actions and words that pummel her to the ground.
Beating her down for every time she rises up to undo his ropes with which she's bound.

He doesn't see...
Past the darkened lenses that she dons.
She wears them,
not to shield her pride that was wrongfully taken,
but to protect him from the repercussions that would come with accusatory speculations.

He doesn't know...
Of the soaked pillow that accompanied her.
The rivulets of tears...
She had quietly shed without a whimper.

He doesn't hear...
The silent altercation between the treasure that beats in her chest and the thing that thinks in her head.
The struggle that ensues when the mind tries to rescind what the heart had wholly given and carelessly said.

He doesn't care...
To think of the devastating waves that come.
Only to erode the last bastion of hope she nurtures...
This frail wall that she prays for nightly.
Just so that it would hold up through another day's endeavour.

He doesn't feel...
The need for empathy.
For he thinks that he's god with one devout follower.
He commands her loyalty with his deluded testaments
and his fists as sceptre.

She doesn't live...
To see future suns.
For her day finally set when it all came down.
The wall she had feebly held together with her life...
Easily gave way when he came at her armed with a knife.

.