The Journey

A sojourner on a journey,
Waddling through a tunnel on a pony.
The only lamp I've got are my dreams,
Forth I stretch to brighten my glimpse.

Toughened by the hurdles I'm put through,
At the end, I hope I shall pull through.
Passioned by my guts in the race of life,
At the end, I hope I shall see light.

Three companions to my left,
After whose route I have lept.
What a journey so blessed! I had felt.
But while I yet bend my back to all,
Nodding yes at beck and call,
The flame to my lamp was gone.
Now I must learn to grope!

My nearest folks have pawned me like a sheep,
While we ate from the same bowl of friendship.
How will aluta continua,
When Victoria is yet at Sparta?

Like a water hyacinth,
Floating on a pool of innocence.
Like a memory, extinct,
Nursed from a drop of a depressant.
Like an indistinct hum,
Bemoarning the plight of a poor fate,
So have I become,
Like an image on a colourless portrait.

In this journey:
I have learnt both the good and bad,
I can tell good the goose from the bat.
The sycophant who lick thy feet at thy sight,
 And curse thy name off thy eyes.
The companion who lures thy guts to thy battle,
 And flee thy back like a beetle.

In this journey:
I have learnt to laugh,
 With my heart split in half.
I have learnt to smile,
With a little tear in my eyes.

Here comes the gods of oratory and two truths,
Tiptoeing in the old cloak of Brutus,
Dripping, their lips, with lies,
Soothing my wounds with hot spice.

If I must be well in this journey,
I must dig a well in my belly.
If I must survive in this tunnel
I must secret my thoughts in deep channels.