Modern Othello

By Mory Keita

I pictured myself at her feet, holding her hands,

Quixotically asking with admirable élan,

“Would you take me for a husband, O dear Desdemona?”

Oh! she looks at me, one hand on her breasts,

Somehow happy, an indiscernible joy,

And Somehow with pity and she replies tottering,

“O charming Othello, perhaps with a diamond ring.”           

Have chivalrous customs lost their worth?

O diamond, heavenly crystal of delight,

Treasure of kings and Muse of modern men,

Why must thou interfere with my love and happiness?

O princess Desdemona, what dost thou wish?

If thou want power, I shall grant to thee my kingdom,

If thou wish other riches,I shall provide them unto you:

Golden Tapestries from the land of the Arabs,

Furs from the wondrous country of Mongolia,

Potteries from Nubia and all Africa and Asia,

Woolen garments from cashmere,

And bibliothèques of knowledge from the Jew;

Or if thou wish, I shall conquer everything beneath the horizon,

Or I shall ordain Moors to build a golden temple in thou name.

And she replies with  soft melodic tunes,

 “O noble Othello, my heart cherishes a diamond ring,”

O Diamond, how did thou corrupt my Desdemona’s eyes?

I have offered her all riches dear to women’s heart.

 I look into her eyes, seeking an answer and say,

“Now, O sweet Desdemona, why dost thou refuse all?”

Again I ask, “Is thou love of diamonds greater than thou love for me,”

And she replies, “No my dear, diamonds are untamed by time, so will our love.”

Modern Othello

Bleeding heart.

                       

 By Mory Keita

Am blind, deaf or dead? O sweet love.

Dost thou exist in pure hearts? O wistful thinking.

Will thou ever shine ere my end? O heart-breaker.

Shall I pierce my soul with this blade? O quixotic madness.

Shall I run from thee forever? O courier of pain.

Gallantry and flattery speak not for me:

Ages crumble from the ancient ruin of time,

And passion vanishes into oblivion.

Now, I thy loyal servant, who traversed the desert,

Defied  mother nature’s will to come to thou,

Stand proudly before thou to declare my love:                                       

Gentle lords and ladies of sacred Olympus,

Here is my sunbeam, commander of my desires, my love.

Behold! How her grins are enchanting,

Beware! They're more fatal than the kisses of Medusa.

Love! What a strange word are thou?

I wish I had never known or heard of thou.

But alas mortals’ hearts are vulnerable to emotions.

Tho’ I breathe, breathing is but unsustainable pain,

And tho' I eat, feeding is but mere distraction from pain.

O harsh, heartless pain, is thou name love?

Or is thou synonym of affection?

My heart bleeds, my soul morns my lost.

A bleeding heart is but eternal damnation.

Thus, Dammed be love and its vain emotions.

Bleeding heart.