A tribute to Anwar Ibrahim

How do days go by? Know not I…
Jammed Khalil,  the friend of Joel

So how do days go by? Were I to know I’ll tell you
Best that I keep the question, close to my chest,
Though it nags at my head all the time
I feel and I know, it’s getting late, it’s getting late.

I don’t know how days come by without ever leaving
Not a creak of stairs, not a sound on windows
Not a rustle of fabric, nor a tap on roofs
Not a crack of doors, nor the kettle’s whistle

Like imagined steam, I don’t see days clearly
It is a seamless existence, inside this prison cell.
It will be late, it will be, if the sun doesn’t shine
If nighttime never comes; when all that flourishes

Is the shameless gleam, in little men’s eyes
And the bitter taste of greed in their hearts.
How do days go by? Know not I, who am aggrieved
How do days go by? Know will I one day when I shall fly.

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