Accursed Be.

Is it true that there is no return

No return to the old days

Of mirth and glory

When the plumes of stoic knights

Broke down he brightness of the rising sun

And te sturdy steads that held their paces

Moved along the destination

Of a journey?

Is it true that thgere is no return

To the dreams we dreamt together

To the trysts we held under the moonlight

In thie halls of gleam and  glamour

In thioe nights when we could choose the stars

That guided us while the moon stood smiling?

Whence the precipice, whence the drop

Whence the executioner with the axe?

Anger will rise to the extreme

And sorrow shall have its sway.

Accursed be the angel taht inspired you

To slit the throat of a fgledging baby7.

Alfred Grech

16/01 2020

Inħars Lejk

Inħares lejk inħares fiha nnifsi

U rrid inreġġa lura l-pass l-għamilt

Bex nara jekk tassew l-uġih li jfieri

Huwiex bizzilla fina li nsiġt jien.

Irrid inkejjel lura l-passi kollha

Pass, pass biex nara inti fejn kont bqajt

U għaliex il-punt tat-tluq evanexxenti

Jew jek kien l-ewwel pass li kien żbaljat.

Illum li lanqas għadni naf mnejn tlaqna

Li tibqa ċass ma tagħmel xejn ħażin

Kull kif tiżbalja ma kull kolp li tieħu

In-naħħa l-oħra tidher wisq aħjar.

Irrid intir ’l-fuq mis-sħab fil-għoli,

Irrid inkejjel kobor l-univers

Irrid nitwieled f’art li lilek welldet

U nar kif sirt taħseb biss għalik.

Alfred Grech

15/01/2020.

This Is Why I Beseech You.

After all it would have been a disgrace

were we to meet again once you

have decided to say good bye

even though the exact reason and

the motives remain a mystery  -

Oh woman of so many mysteries­!

I hoped that we could carry on

the conversation, a sensible dialogue

between grown ups and better persons

when you decided to cut short

and truncate this flow of ideas and emotions.

I have never experienced a laceration

such as this one, a perforation so deep

that penetrates the soul and slashes in two

the serene face of the sky.

This is not reparation

no repeat performance

no revenge only desolation

which is why I beseech you.

Alfred Grech

14.01.2020

The Days Are Gloomy.

The days are gloomy as in a frosty wintry day

andthe nights withou an end.

The torment is too great to fathom

without her.

How can I ever live

with the emptiness of a notion

and the barrenned of a univers.

What you have left

is a barren nest

without the mother bir

the chicks will die.

I could have felt you

disappearing every day along the waves of the ocean

melting away as you do now into the mist

of a wintry morning

moving like a cloud that gives no respit.

Move. move away into the memories

of an empty seat

a vague horison.

What is lifeif it is full of promisses

to be lived in all regrets?

Alfred Grech

13.01.2020.

Lil Elena

Il-mara tal-misteri

il-mara tal-istar

il-mara tas-siparju

li f’daqqa tispirak u ssir poeta.

Il-mara tat-tħabbira

il-mara ta’ bla rgiel

li saret taf bit-tqala

xhin mar u reġa’ ġie.

Hawnhekk il kxif tal-lapidi

Hawnhekk jiċċartu l-maskri

Hawnhekk hawn ħajja ġdida

Minn omm li ħolqot mit.

Il-baħrija ddur ddur

sa tghidlek il-ġejjieni

il-brimba  thuf u tinseġ

biex twaqqwk ġewwa n-nasba

Il-mara tal-ġejjieni

il mara li ssir omm

jinkixef kull misteru

Ma jlissen ebda fomm.

Alfrfed Grech

12.01.2010/

,

Dakinhar Ridt Toghla fl-Ajru

Dakinhar ridt toghla fl-ajru

Bħali timraħ fuq ġwienaħ l-għana

Illum ma nafx x’għandek,

Imqar il-ħsiebidejqek.

Għalaqt il-kaċelli kollha

U mbarrajt il-bibien

Konna aħjar meta dan kollu ġara

t-tnejn konna nies aħjar

erwieħ nieqsa minn kull ħażen

int kont ħaddieħor

qabel jien kont jien

qabel ġejt inti

u sadanittant inbdilt kollok kemm int

u jien insejt inniżżel sieqi ġewwa l-ilma

il-ilma tax-xmara tat-tibdiliet

Mill-ebda naħa ma stajt nara

Dak li qed nara llumn.

Algfred Grech

11/10/2020

The Torment Of  A Lifetime.

The days are gloomy

And the nights are long

Without you.

How am I going to live with the knowledge

Of a darknes that is forever real,

That you will not be truning back?

Barren is the nest without the mother

The infants know not where to turn.

I would have felt you disappearing

Into tye morning mist of the Atlantic

But there is none so blind

As  that whose eyes are sunk in a vision of love.

You fade away into oblivion

To resurrect each time in me

The vivid memories

Of an empty seat

The torment of a lifetime.

Alfred Grech

10/01/2020.