poem

ሓላዊ ናይ ፍቕሪ (The Keeper of the Flame)

እዚ ጸጥታ ናይ ቀደም ዓርከይ እዩ፣ ካብ ንእስነተይ ዝፈልጦ ጽምዋ። ፍቕረይ ናብ ባዶ ቦታ እህብ፣ ዝቕበሎ ሰብ የለን።

ግን ድሙተይ ናላ ትመጽእ፣ ልምልምቲ ግራጫ፡ ህይወተይ ዘድሓነት። ድምጻ ጥራይ እዩ ዝምልሰለይ፣ ኣብ ግዜ ጽምዋይ፡ ሓይለይ እያ።

ናብ ክሽነይ እኸይድ፡ ሓውን ቀመማትን፣ ናይ ቀደም ዝሑል ዝኽርታት ንምጥፋእ። ጥዑምን ጥልቂ መቐረትን አዳልው፣ ብፍቕሪ ዝተሰርሐ መግቢ፣ ንነብሰይ ንምሕዋይ።

ኣብ ልበይ ሓቂ ብሩህ እዩ፣ ጽባቐ ሰብኡት፡ ፍቕሪ ናይ ሰብኣይ። ብዘይ ሕፍረት የፍቅር፣ ዋላ እቲ ዝህቦ ፍቕሪ እንተዘይተመልሰ፣ መንነተይ ብሕበን እቕበል።

ሓደ መዓልቲ ንዕኡ መግቢ ከዳልወሉ እየ፣ ሓደ መዓልቲ ሓደ ሰብኣይ ኣብ ጥቓይ ክቕመጥ እዩ። ብሓንሳብ ብሰላም ክንነብር፣ ክሳብ ሽዑ፡ ፍቕረይ ሒዘ፣ ጽምዋይ ምስ ተስፋ እቕበሎ።

English Translation

The silence in this room is an old friend, A quiet shadow I have known since I was small. I pour my heart into the empty spaces, A well of love with no one there to catch it.

But then comes Nala, soft and gray, A tiny soul saved from the dust, now saving me. Her purr is the only heartbeat answering mine, My anchor when the tide of longing rises.

I turn to the hearth, to the fire and the spice, Banishing the bland, cold memories of the past. I build deep flavors, rich and thick with care, Each simmering pot a feast of the love I hold inside, Cooking not just to eat, but to heal, to survive.

And in my heart, the truth burns bright and proud: The beauty of men, the strength of a man’s embrace. I love as I was made to love, without shame, Drawn to the gentle smiles of my own kind. Though the love I give has yet to be returned, I hold my head high in the truth of who I am.

One day, I will set a plate for him. One day, a man will sit beside me, Just existing, just breathing in the warm air, Sharing the deep flavors, stroking Nala’s fur. Until then, I am the keeper of the flame, Lonely, but full of beautiful, unyielding love.