Traveling To Merlion Park And Stopping By... Poem by Serina Alonzo

Mystical lion of Singapore,
What are you?
They call you...Singha,
And you bathe in gold
Sometimes.
By night, your crystalline
Mane turns lychee and coins;
The moon takes it away
Until the sun comes to paint it gold again.

If I can touch your cold tail
In the morning, I can touch
The smooth scales of heaven
Because you live in paradise
Where the sun shines forever
In your eyes. Your voice
Hears of waves of power
And honor that sing out a song
To old Singapore...

You look almost like heaven
(Your air is fresh,
Your streets are fine):
You're made finely of pure gold
Everywhere...
There may never be
A place of correction
In this place
Of sweet perfection...

Singha, what do you see?
Mystical lion of Singapore,
Have you any sight of blemish
In this land we cherish?
Every highway tree,
A drop of heaven's splendor...
Every speck we see,
A breath of fine surrender...
A sight like never before

...and a bittersweet reminder
That we're not in heaven yet.
The merlion never sleeps.
No one sleeps at all, and no one weeps
Too much. Old Singapore
Has the composure of youth
With towers of vibrance (brilliance) on every corner...
There's a slice of endless dreamland
On the park where Singha stands.