Thin Songs

This is a poem written by Cameroonian anglophone writer Mbella Sonne Dipoko. It may seem a bit grandstanding but, at the same time, i find it very fresh and direct, from the heart.

I identify completely with this poetic voice (except for the altar bit towards the end; when i give up, the only one i need forgiveness from is myself). Our songs may be thin, but they will spread and thicken.

Plus, this is a song about the power of getting up again when we fall, of where that power comes from, of perseverance.

Mister Dipoko died last year, and I have only read of him this one poem. I will try to find more of his stuff.

I am giving up
For the world is ruled by lies
Against which thin songs
Stand no chance.

I feel so frustrated
For history says
It's always the same thing,
The same monster of money dressing himself up
Differently as the occasion demands.
And it is the same in all countries.

Still one's conscience complains
Cured of its own weaknesses
As it limps to the altar
Asking there for forgiveness
Because sometimes one got so near to giving up
The struggle for a better world.

And here is the Spanish translation:

Me doy por vencido
Porque al mundo lo gobiernan mentiras
Contra las cuales las flacas canciones
No tienen ninguna oportunidad.

Me siento tan frustrado
Porque la historia dice
Que es siempre lo mismo,
El mismo monstruo del dinero disfrazado
De forma diferente, según requiera la ocasión.
Y es lo mismo en todos los países.

Sin embargo la conciencia se queja
Curada ya de su propia debilidad
Mientras renguea hacia el altar
Para pedir perdón
Por haber a veces llegado tan cerca de rendirse
En la lucha por un mundo mejor.