As I gave a deep sigh to the thick darkness of this night;
I pondered on the untimely darkness of today;
I became curious at the silence darkness utters so loudly;
I seem to love this stillness but I also seem to hate the darkness.
When will this untimely night end?
When will it be, the breaking forth of the sun for the day?
The darkness seems to have soaked our land to float;
But after a while, I understood that this peace was the pieces of our peels;
It was the naught, a summary of our noise; the unfruitfulness of our labour;
I saw that the stillness was the aggregate of our efforts;
That after it all we have done nothing; that still the world is still void;
That the world is still without form in its form of the maker’s handwork!
Why is it that we shout so loud and our voices unheard and lacks a single echo;
Why has our lamp failed us this night?
Maybe not our lamp but our blindness, maybe not our volume but our voice’s spring!
As I seem lost in my own world, I noticed far in a good distance some lower creatures;
Singing with squeaks, crows, and form a happy world for themselves;
Then I discovered a world of darkness in our world of gross darkness.
A moment out of this oak, into oblivion any of them would disappear.
Into this gross darkness, any crow would fade.
In this peril the world has soaked its main men.
And wandering we shall continue to wander and staggering;
Stagnant, like the world, rotating on its own axis; And to dying we shall until no more are we blind,
Till we have tried all our options, our wisdom and they have failed us;
When our blood has mixed with our tears to flow;
Then we shall cry to God our oak in this night of ours!
Behold darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people,
But the lord shall arise upon thee and His glory shall be seen upon thee.