It came, it attacked but it never conquered,
For a while we tasted victory against a virus.
But, it did not take long for our hearts to ache and mourn,
The unforeseen tornado, the black tide engulfed our laughter, hope and life.
Pristine blue turned into pitch black; it is a stain we the people refuse to wear
For our pride, our identity, our sea has been unfairly tainted.
It’s a stigma we shall not forget…
Proud to be known as islanders, proud to be known as sea-lovers
We came to be known as distressed sufferers.
Was it incompetence and indifference that shrouded us in this mournful black garment?
How could our sea, our life-giver be unjustly turned into a life-taker?
It’s a fury we shall not forget…
The Wakashio nightmare struck; gloom and despair seemed endless,
But in this eternal abyss came unmeasurable help and devotion!
We salute our heroes who rose against the black tide.
Like bees in a hive, they have toiled day and night to rescue all of us.
Their unity, their dedication, their courage and their heroism,
It’s a blessing we shall never forget…