Midnight Crowning

 

Now that clock has struck twelve,

We have entered the millennium new;

The grand ceremonial crowning,

Celebrations for which were going on

among hopes, fears, opportunities new.

 

The court members are jubilant,

Exult at this moment,

The rest, meanwhile, remain unconscious,

Even about the newly crowned!

What type of coronation is this?

That people nearest to the ground understand it not,

Just a time-pass game perhaps,

Still, on this foggy cold night,

When voices are heard high and near,

Thanks to the dense foggy medium,

The noise made here or there

travels disproportionate to the source’s distance,

And the majority just takes a turn,

Lying while in their beds.

 

Isn’t it an unsuitable time?

For they must sleep now,

While the crowning ceremony

being held at this freezing zero hour,

When few must be awake

and left with celebrity nocturnal spirit,

Sleep they will like bats and owls

when the day will break,

And the rest will start toiling,

Unmindful of the nocturnalities.

 

Of course, new sun, new day

will be there for them,

Its meaning but will be unnoticeable;

Hungry, deprived bellies never

sense theoretical change in the cosmos as such.