ADNAN AL-RIKANI

 

 

Digital Wall... Gods Of Aged Clay

 

Leaning against a digital wall

When the clay man dons

a rainbow coat,

In the season of the burdens of hot rain

To eat the toll of lightning...

And sow henna seeds upon

His burning sandy palm,

No neighing for the whims of departure

In the quiver of days...

That sin became

A terrifying scar upon the cheek of the moon

Familiarized by the shyness of the light

That lost the buttons of its shirt,

Its ancient sleep...

Whenever the tremor of the prayer for rain disturbs it,

 it grinds the shroud of illusions hastily...

Then the tombstone smiles

With what the verses of the lie

 of the soothsayers and vows have brought...

That did not approach the gods of aged clay.

 

Tanit, White Wings

 

I waited like a profitable trader

And I walked the alleys of Carthage

That swallow laughter...!

 

The bath of Al-Rami tempts me

To offer my sacrifices to (Amka Tanqo)

Perhaps she will bring me rain...

Tanit was suckled at the breast of beauty

And I smell the scent of Ashmun,

Like the burning of Aeschylus' fire with a slippery arrow

I row the ships of the sea with my fingertips

And I give its seagulls desire to drink,

Accustomed to drinking the wine of saliva

So the wave becomes drunk in At a moment of surprise

With the laughter of half-destroyed ships

On shores of swaying temptation

Carrying upon the shoulder of light...

Its eternal struggle, moaning since its youth

Rarely does memory betray it in a moment of sighing

Before the gate of heaven opens

And the angels ring the bells of lament

Barefoot is this night, stretching its arms

Between the gleam of the dawn's dagger

 And pleas of hope, their features erased,

With the shards of an empty cup's lips,

All its branching lines steal

From the life of yesterday's neighing...

And the audacity of suspicions gathered at its depths

To tighten the bowstring of escape...

When my fingers ignite with the taste of colors,

Like prey caught in a raid's trap,

Then the white thread swam and black in its essence

And she stood frozen on the foot of delirium

Even the rooster didn't crow for my morning...!

So dawn choked in a whirlwind of longing

And the digital account vanished between the clay tablets

And the trembling of my illuminated window

With the monotony of your hourglass hands

As they carve with the chisels of their slumber,

The sound of salty kisses in the rain.!!

And her bare hats search for heads

Like a necklace of obsession, they adorn the neck of loss

Whenever the octopus's arm sprouts leaves,

My body is cleansed with your clinging dust

Above my navel...

 

ADNAN AL-RIKANI