“One day it will end” is a poem writen by Enoh Meyomesse, a writer from Cameroon who spent several years in prison because of his writings ...

It’s so dark in the cell

It’s so dark in the cell

it's so hot in the cell

in my country

you are locked

into the dark

In my country in my country in my country in my country

there is no window

no window

no window

no window

in the cell

In the dark you are immersed

In the heat you are immersed

In the oven you are immersed

In the sweat that sticks to the

body

and runs from head to toe

You are immersed

in sadness you are immersed

in despair you are immersed

and when the metal door opens

heavily and creaks cruelly

you come out of the tomb

some time

You come out of death

some time

you return to life some time

until it closes

AGAIN

It’s so dark in the cell

it's so hot in the cell

in my country

in my country

in my country

in my country

you are locked

into the dark

………………………………

When I was in jail

I received so many letters

I received so many letters

I received so many letters

when I was in jail

the boss of the prison

started to read them

started to read them

started to read them

when I was in jail

he was tired to read them

he was tired to read them

he was tired to read them

when I was in jail

he call me

he call me

he call me

when I was in jail

why do you spread my name

all over the world

all over the world

all over the world

when I was in jail

you the writer

you the writer

you the writer

I don’t like you

when I was in jail

you

dangerous man

with your pencil

I don’t want you no longer here

next Saturday

next Saturday

next Saturday

when the sun rises

I will send you to Yoko prison

the special prison

for dangerous persons like you

once there

You can no longer write

you can no longer disturb me

you can no longer give me head aches

you can no longer give me trouble

you can no longer

you will no longer

no longer

no longer

but

a prison guard told him

all the writers of the world

all the writers of the world

all the writers of the world

will send to the head of state

millions and millions and millions

and millions letters

trough PEN International

YOU WILL LOSE YOUR JOB

……………………………

When in the air spins the truncheon

when in the air spins the truncheon

the senses you lose

the courage you lose

the force you lose

the bravery you lose

the heroism you lose

your soul you lose

when in the air spins the truncheon

your name you lose

your first name you lose

your father you lose

your mother you lose

your family you lose

when in the air spins the truncheon

your voice you lose

all

all

all

all

you lose

you only have your hands

to beg

to beg

to beg

your hands

your hands

your hands

nothing only your hands

when in the air spins the truncheon

you regret

you regret

you regret

you regret

to have come into this world

I play my drum

I play my drum

with enjoyment

now

I play my drum

far from you

ô my beloved country

I play my drum

the heart in pain despite everything

but I play my drum

free

henceforth

my hands will play it for a long time

my hands will play it for a long time

my hands will play it indefinitely

my hands will play it until my return

Oh listen to my drum I play

Oh listen to my melody I play

Oh listen to my lament I play

Oh listen to the lament of my soul in trouble

I play my drum day and night

To mourn my sadness

But I play my drum

Freely now

Henceforth

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