The Destruction Is Pouring And I Am Leaning On It

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    تاريخ التسجيل : 14/09/2010

    The Destruction Is Pouring And I Am Leaning On It

    مُساهمة  Admin في الإثنين أبريل 15, 2013 8:16 pm

    Translated from the Arabic by Abbas El Sheikh
    Edited by Mark Pirie




    Say whatever you want to say
    And let me say whatever I want to say!
    The directions are hiding behind their hallucinations
    The exiles lock their doors in front of the Euphrates
    Say whatever you want to say
    And let me say whatever I want to say!
    My days are licking my days
    And he who goes too far without his greenery is the myrtle
    You light your illusions with madness
    Coughing
    mistakes
    and love
    And the regret knocks at your door
    Why, then, should you open it?
    Is it to be blessed with certitude?
    Don’t you know that doubtfulness
    Is an ink that spills over your age?
    Your screaming is just in vain
    In a dawn with aging lights
    And what is in your right hand
    Is only what is in your right hand
    Say whatever you want to say
    And let me say whatever I want to say!
    I am a thirst of anxiety
    Pillowed by longing
    The nightmare takes its refuge in me
    Just as destruction seeks its protection in me
    My paths are pale
    And my morning is threatened with nothingness
    The moss is growing on its banks
    And the alienation too

    I trade the war for exile
    And Babylon does not console me
    I am besieged with seas
    While the Tigris is submerged in thirst
    I dip the lanterns in my palm
    To give the stars their glitter
    I ask the wind
    To make a holy circle around my door
    I embroider my pain with murmurings
    And mend my defeats with happiness
    And the happiness flees disgusted
    Its wailing staining the walls and beds
    I hail the season of my pain
    And permit my foolishness to light the candles of Diaspora
    The seas enter my hermitage
    I am a pall for them with my windows
    I lead the skeletons of my desolation
    Which have become addicted to me
    And my widowed questions
    Autumn is pillowing my memory
    And the bells are plentiful with the gift of elegies
    I lament my days
    And decorate their headstone with wailing
    I wet the resonance of the incandescence in gold
    And rub the yearning off the silver of waiting
    No one is at the window

    Praise your exile
    And say: Is there any shyness in the aquamarine?
    I lament my days
    And light their headstone
    With incense and myrtle
    I recite in the band of the forgotten
    Your memory forever
    I read the sighs of the agate in its tinkles
    And the turquoise
    And on the verges of its losses
    It lights its loneliness by questions
    From my fingers the destruction is pouring
    And I am leaning on it


      الوقت/التاريخ الآن هو الأربعاء أغسطس 22, 2018 2:01 am