The Vehemence of Cooing



    المساهمات : 496
    تاريخ التسجيل : 14/09/2010

    The Vehemence of Cooing

    مُساهمة  Admin في الإثنين أبريل 15, 2013 2:33 pm

    Translated by Abbas El Sheikh

    I am not a God
    To love you as it ought to be
    Your domes are lofty
    And the angels are guarding your shadows
    With their happiness
    In my hands, nothing but wars
    From which I gained nothing but defeats
    I am not a God
    To love you as it ought to be
    Your domes are lofty
    And the angels being exulted
    They are guarding your shadows
    Due to their happiness

    And in your bosom the morning is rejoicing
    While my shirt remains tarnished with the corporal’s whistle
    I released, I said, the wind from the curls of my hair,
    But still I see ripe star clusters in your lips
    And the forlornness on your pillow is my rain
    I hide it so that the sky will not be wet
    Some sadness is awakening in our looks
    Its history is embroidered with confusion

    Why are the seagulls always
    Flowing in your fields
    And my heart is always
    Full of bitterness?
    I have nothing,
    But some remaining wishes
    I submissively sacrificed them
    But they mocked my psalms
    I evacuated my temples,
    Except from sleeplessness
    And ordered my words
    To make pilgrimage
    To your infinite kingdom
    And my glances
    To your countenance
    And to your prestige
    My soul
    And then I alleged that
    I disclosed my passion to the butterflies
    And taught nightingales to write your name
    In their singing
    And the blackbirds
    To crown their
    Quarrelsome ways
    On the waves
    And lure doves to resort to you
    From the vehemence of cooing
    And the breeze
    To spread its good omens in my name

    In her wardrobes the wind keeps my love
    And its mysteries
    And disperses as God dispenses his stars
    In our mirrors
    Between your fingers
    My windows are pregnant with sadness
    And I am showering my praises

    You did not turn
    To my outpouring of ignitions
    You did not turn to my presence
    Which is full of timidness
    Or to your forced presence in my throat
    I knocked at your door repeatedly
    I closed all the roads
    And wound up my mornings
    I left my dreams widowed without a compass
    Because I am amazed with your plains
    I am without a guide
    Your seduction of violet
    Made my feelings swell with sympathy
    And commit my foolishness intentionally
    Igniting the seas with my errors
    My errors which I can count:

    A father defecting from conscription
    He married a girl and after three years
    And a half
    He left her
    To what was so called the eternity

    I was ungrateful
    Because his freak impulse lured the impulse of death
    Too early

    Why did passion collect me in your summer?
    Now my loss is mending its streets from passers by
    How can I separate your tongue from honey?

    And in your hands flowers are blossoming
    And in my hands nothing but the remains of defeats
    And the rattling of cannons

    Waves of soft kisses
    Are confused in your smooth body
    In your neck jasmine is shivering
    And in your armpits
    The willow is dancing for the breeze
    And under your white jumper
    There is a keeper
    And the peacocks are roaming gaily

    How can I tempt the nightingales
    Not to hover around you
    How can I tempt the rivers
    Not to green your springs
    This is why heaven is trying
    To pick up its stars in vain
    From your warm lakes
    And my blood is knitting its burning in vain
    And you are laughing
    After the burning is extinguished
    In the holy fire
    And the glowing of your eternal light

    My love
    For the forests to draw your attention
    They start playing my yearning
    And due to my madness
    The Euphrates embraces the Tigris
    Even stronger
    And the rose spreads its fragrance
    And moaning in your face
    Why is it
    My wind
    Doesn’t point except to you?
    And my night
    Isn’t guided except by your light?
    And my day
    Doesn’t draw light except from your dawn?

    Did I say I love you
    But I am not a God
    To love you as it ought to be

      الوقت/التاريخ الآن هو الثلاثاء يناير 15, 2019 6:45 pm