LUBNA MORTADA

 

 

To Helen...

 

 - Reassurance spreads its wings

 A soft light wafts

 I think between ambiguity and clarity

 Little thoughts come to me

 While my wings flutter

 To the visible void

 To sip what's left of the cup

 With the vitality of the veins of life emerging

 From overseas

 Seas that tend to be blue

 Open orbit waves

 Like the softness of migrating spectra

 In the moonlight…

 From the other side come green colors

 It gives fertility a branch and a bird to rise

 With Nessma..

 Then he returns to his sleeping thoughts

 Above the passing cloud

 He repeats: “Girlette, you must be more beautiful than me.”

 The strings of my heart sing to the end of the valley

 And my beloved's fringes play and drip the tune

 Perfume, drawing and poetry

 A wooden sword and a stone grinder

 Warrior

 Rising from the side of the stubborn mountains

 Hold tight to your heart and glorify it

 Lest you fall on his perfume

 There are only white birds between the rose and its shadow

 On an open horizon...to Rabieh

 In many directions

 Helen doesn't like wine

 Grape vines swim their presses

 In endless light

 Your white horse refuses to bridle

 Two steps above land

 And two steps above the waters of the stream

 Your green spring loves flowers

 The freedom of flowers is limited

 Prose said:

 We have a lotus flower in your hands

 And the light of your eyes is sunny clouds

 Like my kisses on your white fingers

 I watch you in the morning as a given mirror

 On the trees of the seasons

 Shells whose sides radiate ocean blue

 Its sails move quickly

 Touching the wings of shy gulls

 From her eyelashes that play

 On the orbits of my ecstatic heart

 It leaves space and time

 He brings good news hanging from reed baskets

 A cheer for your young fruits before the June clouds

 Pass through the dew

 Sing to your clusters

 Which I have known since my youth

 She told me about the mountain

 Its moon and trees

 His beautiful bridesmaid

 In the embers of nectar

 Simplify my crumbling heart

 On the map of weddings and weddings

 So that your eyes can rise to the poem

 Her skin bleeds and the blush returns

 From your compassion

 To the color of my face and my blood...

 

LUBNA MORTADA