Yes, it isn't always wise to pretend that
the muses keep their arsenal in silence.
These are my words and I clutch them
as my spear.
Forgive me, mother, I couldn't do it otherwise.
I know, you've been silent since ever
and, perhaps, I should have done the same,
but out of our stillness a cryout
had to gush sometime
and, here it is, infusing my mouth with hope and tears
and with a sunny glumness
which belongs, I'm not sure,
to me or to my grave. However
this almost holds
no consequence.