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…