Onokemi Onojobi Poet Quintain (Sicilian)

Waiting For Death

WAITING FOR DEATH

Daily I strolled, past this old man's house
And there he sat, from dawn to dusk
His mien, tenebrific uncompromisingly
Hunched in his chair, dried to the bone
Cold and crabby, waiting...just waiting

And so I dared ask one dreich, dreary day
"Good sir, what keeps you out here everyday?
"For I see, it takes a mighty bit of your time"
He spared me a frown, s disturbance I'd say
"I'm waiting for Death, that crafty crafty lout"

Confused I was, that one would pass time thus
I leaned on his fence, my curiosity compelled
For to me, this was one quite curious event
"Won't let that philistine sneak up on me" he said
"I'm smarter you see, won't be caught unawares"

"I made no investment, no profit I stacked"
"I lived my whole life at the barest I could"
"And stored not treasure, for that it would steal"
"And had me no pleasure, Ha! a surprise it'd be"
"Let death come for me, there is nothing to take"

I walked away, contemplating the perplexity
How a life would be wasted in such a wary way
For to await an event with no appointment
And to deprive oneself over such a quandary
Is in itself, i'd clearly say, a sad, very sad life.

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