I am the mouth through which thousand voices speak
– like diverging rays, red and gray,
these voices speak – of love, of hate, of poetry
And I am at their centre, the sun – of principal, of truth, of coquetry
Then another wrench! I transform myself,
sigh like a mother, mad like a lover
A twist again! I become young when old
but for a fleeting moment, I am
who can talk like a believer and doubt like a sinner –
Twist again! And I’m in the midst of green-blue sea,
My watery limbs extending through the mist to eternity,
I’m then an oracle, he wants a prophecy
and they pull the rope round and round my throat –
Numerous lines they force to speak
Wisdom comes at a price, force!
force to paint streaks of colors that twirl around,
then settle in various shapes and forms
on a canvas before our eyes, on a canvas
the canvas, my words, a bloody scar of their revenge,
a revenge of their mediocrity,
for mediocrity chokes, while the wisdom you so covet, resent,
lies outside your reach
And I choke myself, I who is the sea
sighs like a mother, moves like a lover
I choke myself with my soapy mediocrity
I fold inside me
I help them choke myself – till they leave,
their quest accomplished
then I leave too, go deep under,
under the sea –
like the sun,
like the proteus
like the sea.
Nehaan 