Let me dress
your dream
like a timid
meteor ray,
And we fall into
the abyss of encounter
Then the
melodies are missed
For the secrets
of a washed cloud
Under the cloak
of the fleeing night
Glitter flowers
are encircled
The waves of your
ostentatious eyes
Without a
homeland in the support of the wind
We are loaded on
boards
We call out the
ports of reassurance.
A melted pulse
with the genie of legends
It was topped
with a heavy, worn canvas
With the worries
of the pierced suspicions
The more life
stripped her shoulders
He loved her
hard.
And eternity
never gets tired of its misery
Despite the
poison and her walk
over thorns..
Tears raise the
shadow of absence
He gifted her a
cascade of hatred
Pray the
pleasure prayer
Let the
qualities of heaven embrace our innocence
And water the
river of sorrows
The misery of
our fainted kneeling
Like the
constant rain of tenderness
And your stray
spectrum does not sing to my hearing
Throws embers
that sting the body
It makes me
sigh...
Without blame in
my estrangement
And bare the
lines in pale cities
It makes me
sound like a liver without a liver..!
Moaning Light
In this dead
moment, I deposit the features of the hidden light, which draws my destiny over
the cracks of lost walls, whose shells were created from the thick blackness of
smoke, as he runs after the battlefield of his last days, before pulling his
departure from the tongue of a white fuse that I embraced for days and months,
and his heartbeat shrank after he was engulfed in a chaos of dust. Condemned
overnight, and how can I not hear the grunts of farewell while you dry up the
light of my groaning, and I humiliated myself from vein to vein...
And I borrow my
five senses from calamities, the coffin of my limbs floats above the pyre of
duality, and the dark whispers were the last point of convergence, between the
flabby waves of my life scattered under the ashes of the hearth of the seducer,
and the hallucinations of an exposed tomorrow...
Perhaps those
icy evenings seduced me, and led me on its remote journey like a thorn that the
wind had torn from its roots, and it rolled like a snowball, but it did not
grow larger, rather it got smaller until it became a prey to the tip of a small
needle that he pulled from the fingertips of the farmer before the harvest
began.
Confession... (9)
(Habat
Al-Maturidia).
My mind is in
the end
Those days were
taken away
…..................
From us a lifetime?
And you kept the
love of the Maturidis
…............
reeling over
stubbornness
rock…...
Oh how I tried
to get there
For the
bitterness of your beaches absent from me
And I hear the
sound of my pain for your frightened seagulls
Of the ghosts
did not leave those
The ship that
overturned its sails
Enough with the
bitterness of life
Everything..
stops
It’s on one leg
Even corals
You are obsessed
with the salt of our legend
When we speak in
sign language
Traffic is
disrupted according to whims
The coming waves
up and down
She did not come
to the farm.
Rather, she
mocked the silence of the rocks
Almtlajih on all
four sides
They shiver
under the blazing sun
Blazing and
smiling seagulls
Her last
twinkle…
ADNAN AL-RIKANI
No comments :
Post a Comment