Trepidations of an Unborn Child

Written by Ahmed Naoual

Countless mortals were born and died;

Procreation's an act of vast banality-

-and so is cessation of life.

Yet they'd love to see me alive-

-As if my birth would increase their humanity,

Make them more, as the poet said.

As if, well-content on this earth,

They couldn't wait to share with me

A world of Elysian bliss and untold delight!

But will I truly see the light

Of the promised sun; the immense felicity,

The sheer joy, merriment and mirth

Their ululations seem to herald, when I'm born,

Or am I fated to suffer, grieve, weep and mourn?

Will I be unhurt by the ruler's oppression,

The pulpiteer's wrath, the holy man's perversion,

Unmoved by the common miseries and sufferings,

The twinges and twitches of the common earthlings?

And when wild winds and roaring deep

Are howling in rage, threatening storms and hurricanes,

And winter rain begins to fall,

When suddenly my world is shrouded in a pall

And I'm left all alone with my sorrows and pains

To cuddle my grief, groan, and weep;

Will they heed the heart-wrenching call

And come running to save my poor imperilled soul?

Will they shut out the primal fears

And wipe away my fearful tears,

Banish the primitive nightmares

And shelter my tender dreams?

Will they allow me to chant simple songs of love,

Follow light-hearted birds in their flight above,

Soar with eagles in giddy heights,

And fly high with many coloured kites?

Will I be able to quench my thirst with water

Limpid and pure, breathe fresh bracing air and totter

And walk on wholesome waves and green dewy meadows?

Will this world be wide enough for my friends and foes?