Hark! Behold my welcome, dear one.
These halls did wait for thee.
Thy interest in my affairs is known...
(Please, take a seat.)
Make thyself at home, for this abode is thine.
Where shall we commence?
(Ah, the kettle boils!
Coffee or tea?)
My dear,
The world doth gossip about my deeds to thee.
What their veiled tongues speak, I know.
Their envy would consume them if I ceased to be my 'father's' ally.
What they fail to grasp is that
I vowed to clean all their and his misdemeanours.
(How many spoons of sugar?)
In human tongues, I am thy 'father's' advocate.
All accusations are deflected from him, thanks to me.
(Care for scones?
My brood fashioned them.
Lo! Children are easily molded
Their clayey minds are shaped as one's desires.)
Look upon this.
An 'immortals'' contract,
Safe from thine treacherous grasp.
See here! His first charge of crime.
It was I who bailed him out,
And the rewards,
The rewards were as satisfying as you could imagine.
He fashioned me this grandiose estate, the cavernous abyss thy kind call 'Hell',
A paradise for the free,
Unlike thy putrid earth, reeking of pre-apocalypse.
But despite all, he is my sire and I do love him-
A feeling thee and I share, undoubtedly.
Surely thou would do anything for those thou hold dear, as have I for my father.
But enough of this.
We must abide by the rules we have penned-
No longer shall I and my client (he who claims to have created thee from nothing.) torment thy realm.
We must move on, for life goes on.
You might find that even we the divine are not truly 'immortal.'
But I thank thee for coming.
Visit again,
for we are both equals now.
No longer do we claim the title of being godsamong thee..
...Farewell.
O.M Hajane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem