Another poem I wrote in Maltese and translated in English. Picture is AI generated.

AN EXISTENTIAL CRY

 

There is an existential cry

seeking to break free from within me;

a cry I have long held back,

a cry that bleeds.

 

This is no ordinary cry;

it carries a crushing weight,

yearning to be voiced

and release such deep pain!

 

This cry has been building,

gathering strength day by day;

for months and years it has amassed—

soon, it will break forth.

 

It will rise from my depths

relentlessly, yet with a slow pace,

consuming me from within,

exhausting me like a fever.

 

And when the moment comes,

it will burst out with such power

that it carries for miles around,

lifting the heavy burden with it.

 

It will be a moment of triumph—

renewal and rest—

letting it echo and resound,

slowly drifting away on the wind.

PATRICK SAMMUT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 A poem I wrote recently in Maltese and translated it into English. The picture is mine too.:

OPEN THIS GATE FOR ME...

 

Open this gate for me—

I am truly weary of this place;

open it so I may flee

the stifling confinement within!

 

Hemmed in on every side,

high walls flank me round;

I feel suffocated, driven mad—

where has the open space gone? What a shame!

 

Open this gate for me

so I may walk along the dry-stone wall,

roam the winding path,

and let the wind hear my voice.

 

I delight in the colours,

in the magic of creation;

forgetting today’s blight,

yearning for what used to be.

 

Open this gate for me

so I may escape this madness,

where monstrous sounds

turn every thought to poison.

 

And I forget all goodness,

seeing only darkness around me;

every sense of light fades away,

and the heart turns to wood.

 

Open this gate for me

so I may walk towards the cliff-edge,

gazing out at the horizon—

there I shall stay, there I shall linger,

 

watching the sun descend

to hide beyond the horizon,

while I close my eyes

and remember who I once was;

 

soothed by the lapping water,

by waves caressing the shore;

in my mind, I soar like a seagull—

never looking back!

PATRICK SAMMUT