Night And Wine And Woman
My wooden home
has two windows
opened to their limits
and shadow of a
woman inflaming the distance
I look upon the
sea on the wake of the evening
and upon a glass
of wine
stirring the
echoes.
My wooden home has
the smell of dew
and the shape of
a soul in the palm of a blur
in our wooden
home, there is an aged jar
and a thirsty
butterfly haunting me
into the
futility of speech.
It is you?
and for a while,
I've been looking in you for my death
here you are, and
this taste is monstrous
exploding in me
a volcano
and inflaming in
me my sails.
Here you are
and in your eyes
a storm of drunkenness
oh you hug and
burn and fill and spill me
wine over my
crematorium
so don't ever
change and be oh a woman
destroying all
my kingdom
and embrace me
as a bottle
that danced on
the belt of a storm
thus the flame
of its wine burns me into poetry
for an ultimate
heat and a Kamasutra glass
cover all my
questions...!!
Wave Has Returned
Why I should
forgive, friends?
Does any one of
you carry the morning baggage?
Does there
anyone who read the catastrophe in my grief,
And participate
in the death of the night the suffering of the darkness,
And tearing an
artery in my time's entrails.
There was a
flower which growing in my heart
There was a
tulip which growing in my soul
My life has
gone… I wish it does not.
A child was
growing in my heart,
She was
fidgeting in the womb of sorrow… suffering
A female was in
my soul
Painting the
wings of the sun and the remains of a smile
But arrows of
those who I love
Were shut, in
the morning, to my soul, and… it hit the target!
What I should
do, friends?
Does there any
one of you carry the worries of our nation?
Does there any
one of you read the books of the sea,
And sip the remains
of coal from the bottom of the cup?
The child says:
What I should do
in order to turn me pregnant!?
What do I write,
strangers?
Does there any
one of you understand what I may write?
I, might write
all your sins
And hug, at
noon, my torments
Revolution,
Revolution,
Revolution...
What I should
do, lovers?
Does any one of
you know the taste of
A salty wound on
the breasts of the kiss?
Does any one of
you know how the love will be
On the bridge of
return?
Does any one of
you know
how the soul
goes on the flank of the tent?
Does any one of
you know
How the heart is
hungry and how the passion suicide…?!
What I should
do, my beloves?
It is a mirage.
mirage
Continue your
watery dreams
Continue the
wife's dream
Cause tomorrow
you will hug these wave
Wave is
returning,
Wave is
returning,
Wave is
returning.
The Departure Of The Spirit
I saw you
painting the dream
between the fire and the night,
And moons above
the night,
And grief behind
the spirit,
And the color of
grief likes the twilight.
I saw you
carrying the sea in your eyes expatriate,
And plates of
faith and disbelief,
I asked the sea
if it know its carrier,
The sea replies
waves of tiredness.
I saw you silent
dumping the grief in your lips,
You don’t ask
now about my drown?
You said:
"yes",
Why the river
doesn't flow as we like,
We don’t want to
pass the love like leaves.
I saw you
hugging the thorn,
And the thorn is
wounding,
Then I said:
enough
The thorn's
wounds in the worriedly.
I saw you behind
my grief and in it,
Can you stand
the grief in journeys?
I'm tired of
grief, I don’t know
Whether the
spirit departure until neck
Erase the grief.
MOAEN SHALABIA
MOAEN SHALABIA: Born on 14 October
1958 in Maghar town - In the sea of Galilee region. One of the Arab Palestinian
national minorities in Israel. Finished his studies at Haifa University. Poet
and prose writer, his writing career began in 1973, he published his poems in
national local newspapers and Arabic papers abroad. He published six poetry
books and three prose. His first-born was the first book of poetry in 1989. He
participated in many local and international festivals around the world. He was
awarded by the "Arab intellectual's forum" – Jerusalem Al-Quds).
Besides, he has received many appreciations certificates a member of the union
of Arab writers and the movement of world poets (Poetas del Mundo), and a
Member of Mahmoud Darwish Foundation for Creativity. His literary production
was discussed and criticized in universities and many sessions in the homeland
and abroad. Some of his poems were translated into many languages, like French,
Turkish, English, Romanian, Polish, Macedonian, Italian, Hebrew, Bosnian,
Albanian, Croatian, Russian, Portuguese, Serbian, and Bahasa Malaysia language.
His collection of poems was included in the national and international
anthologies. He won the prize of pest poetry at the international poetry
festival / Tetova – Macedonia / Albania. He recently won the big prize of the
"Arab Writers Union" for poetry.
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