To The Lily Poem by John Agandin

Oh bright and innocent Lilium,
Why do you wail in the mountain breeze?
Golden Splendour, scented Robina,
Why envy the crimson-rose?
Think not of them,
You also have your shine.


Behold the sun outshines all
And all life hasten to greet his awakening.
Yet it is the moon, the lesser light
That makes the cripple hungry for a walk!


How you degrade yourself, fairest lily,
And do the sons of Adam an injustice.
Though they be beguiled of the sun by day,
They soon seek the shade of the huge baobab
To escape even his charm and grandeur
But of the moon, it is not told
That they tired nor sought rest.


As the day makes way for the night,
So does the sun for the moon,
And long into the watches of the night,
The village is bathed in her glorious splendour,
Charmed by her joyous beams
Intoxicated with her beauty.
Only when she grows shy and hides her grin
Do they, at last, seek their happy mats
And their beamish faces never fade till dawn.



Dearest lily,
The day has been long and scorchy,
The prickly roses have proved fickle,
The noon heat has faded their crimson
Strife has shredded all our desires.
But you, perennial Madonna, endures,
We are conquered by that impetus
And irresistibly drawn to that beauty
We have no wish for brief crimsons.