Twenty-six moons have fled
And one is still captured
And one feels the enemy’s threatening
And the heart is full of dread.
Will salvation never come,
Will there be no end to this horror
That we‘ve carried for years now
Will we never see the sun?
Will the liberator never come to us,
Us, who have sat for so long,
As Prometheus’ liver was once
Eaten away by the vulture,
Time gnaws at our bile,
Time devours our souls,
We sit in a mousetrap,
Feel the knife at our throats.
Every sound makes us tremble,
For they might catch us,
Fear and trepidation are our life,
And in caves and crevices
We timidly hide,
Timidly concealed and timidly withdrawn,
Waiting for the morning of freedom,
That has long been promised to us.
As Prometheus by the gods
Was forged to the rocks,
I sit here, cursing and raging,
For I find it tiring.
Post-Editing: Ernestine Kahn
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