I will not sing today,
I will not sing
of roses and of bulbuls
of irises and hyacinths
I will not sing
Those drunken and ravishing
Dulcet and sleepy-eyed songs.
No more such songs for me !
I will not sing those songs today.
Dust clouds of war have robbed the
iris of her hue,
The bulbul lies silenced by the
thunderous roar of guns,
Chains are all a-jingle in the
haunts of hyacinths.
A haze has blinded lightning's eyes,
Hill and mountain lie crouched in fear,
And black death
Holds all cloud tops in its embrace,
I will not sing today
For the wily warmonger with loins girt
Lies in ambush for my land.