Azabo Revisited By Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin Translator: Mitiku Adisu Seeing is what eyes are for, Before the spell on life span is dimmed, Fourteen years have gone by, And to Azabo I returned … I observed her confines, And gave ear to her vibes … Hearing is what ears are for, So long as body parts are active, I salute Azabo, hooray! After fourteen long years away; Her voice then was distant, nil, Like cough of the deathly ill— A phantom, all downhill; Shadow of nightmares, Terror of evil days; Mist above the plaza, whirling vulture wings; Earth, like cutting file ridges; Teeth clashing, gnashing like church bell, Lamentation as no sound could ever tell; Humanity, field mice in the underbrush, Squeaking, groaning, sudden hush, Birds of prey above rooftops cawing, Not any tone, wailing, clawing; Today well-being is on display, Children everywhere at play, Cattle leisurely grazing, Villagers cackling, buzzing; “All things considered,” they’d say; The hearth is awoke, Every hut pluming wavi