The Poem of the Coffee Reader
She sat, fear gleaming in her eyes,
Gazing at my turned coffee cup.
She said:
My son, do not be sad,
For love is what is written for you.
My son,
A martyr has died
For one who dies for the faith of their beloved.
Your coffee cup symbolizes a terrifying world,
Your life will be filled with journeys and wars.
You will love intensely and often,
And you will experience many deaths.
You will fall for every woman on Earth,
Yet return like a defeated king.
In your life, my son, is a woman,
Whose eyes, truly, are divine.
Her lips are shaped like a cluster of grapes,
Her laughter, a melody of music and flowers.
But your skies will weep,
And your path will be blocked… blocked.
Your beloved, my son,
Is asleep in a castle well-guarded.
The castle is vast, my son,
And it is guarded by dogs and soldiers.
Your heart’s princess slumbers,
Anyone who enters her chamber is lost.
Whoever seeks her hand,
Whoever approaches the surrounding wall of her garden, is lost.
Anyone who attempts to untangle her braids,
My son, is lost… lost.
I have gazed and prophesied many things,
But I have never read a coffee cup like yours.
I have never known, my son,
Griefs akin to your own.
Your fate is to walk forever,
In love… on the edge of a dagger.
You will remain alone as a shell,
And feel sorrow like a willow tree.
Your destiny is to continue…
In the sea of love without sails,
And love a million times…
And return like a deposed king…
The Poem of Photographing in the Gray Times
Since childhood, I have tried
To envision the shape of my homeland.
I have drawn houses,
I have drawn roofs,
I have sketched faces,
I have painted minarets adorned with gold.
I have depicted abandoned streets,
Where the weary can rest.
I have portrayed lands, falsely named,
Arab lands…
From childhood, I have sought to draw a country
That will forgive me…
If I break the glass of the moon,
And will thank me… if I craft a love poem
And allow me to express love,
Like all birds, among the trees.
I strive to illustrate a land,
Where people laugh… and cry like humans.
I seek to disown my vocabulary
And the curse of the subject and predicate.
I brush off the dust from me,
And wash my face with rainwater.
I try to resign from the tyranny of sand…
Farewell, Quraish…
Farewell, Kulaib…
Farewell, Mudar…
With a parliament of jasmine…
And a delicate people of jasmine…
Pigeons rest upon my head…
And their minarets weep in my eyes.
I attempt to draw a country…
That is a friend to my poetry
And does not interfere between me… and my assumptions.
Where soldiers do not roam
Upon my brow…
I aim to sketch a land
That rewards me… for burning my clothes.
And forgives me…
If the river of my madness overflows…
I seek to depict a city of love,
Where femininity is not slaughtered…
And the body is not suppressed.
I traveled south…
I ventured north…
But it was futile…
The coffee in every café has the same flavor.
And every woman has, when stripped…
The same scent…
And every tribal man does not chew his food,
But swallows women…
In a mere moment…
I have been trying since the very beginnings…
Not to be similar to anyone.
I have renounced the worship of any idol.
I am attempting to burn all the texts I don…
Some poems are tombs,
And some languages are shrouds.
I sketched the bleeding cafés,
I illustrated the coughing of cities,
And promised the last woman,
But I arrived after the passage of time…
I am trying to depict a land,
Where my bed is stable,
And my head is steady,
But they took my drawing box from me,
And did not allow me…
To portray the face of the homeland…
And my head is in place,
So I may discern the difference between countries…
And ships…
But they took my drawing box from me,
And did not allow me…
To portray the face of the homeland…
The Poem of Anger
Be angry as you wish…
And wound my feelings as you desire.
Smash the flower pots and mirrors,
Threaten with love from another woman.
For everything you do is indifferent…
Everything you say is the same…
You are like children, my beloved,
We love them… no matter how they hurt us.
Be angry!
You are truly wonderful when you rage.
Be angry!
For without waves, oceans cannot form.
Be tempestuous… be rain-laden…
For my heart is always forgiving.
Be angry!
For I will not respond with defiance.
You are a playful child,…
Filled with arrogance.
And how could little ones…
Take revenge like birds?
Leave…
If you ever tire of me…
Blame fate and blame me…
As for me, I will content myself with my tears and sorrow…
For silence is pride,
And sadness is pride.
Go…
If staying tires you…
For the earth contains perfume and women…
And eyes, green and black.
And when you wish to see me,
And when you need, like a child, my tenderness,…
Return to my heart whenever you like…
For you are the air of my life…
And to me, you are earth and sky…
Be angry as you wish,
And leave as you please,
And go… whenever you want…
Surely, you will return one day,
Having learned the meaning of loyalty…
The Poem of the Jasmine Wreath
Thank you… for the jasmine wreath.
You laughed at me… and I thought you understood
The meaning of the jasmine bracelet.
It is brought to you by a man.
I believed you were aware.
And I sat in a quiet corner,
Grooming and pouring perfume from a bottle,
Whispering a tune of French resonance,
A tune as sorrowful as my days.
Your feet in delicate shoes,
Flow like streams of longing.
You approached the wardrobe,
Unraveling and dressing.
I was asked to choose what you would wear.
Is it for me then?
Do you adorn yourself for me?
And I stood… in a whirlpool of colors, my brow heated,
In the exposed black of your shoulders.
Do you hesitate?
But it is a mournful hue,
A color as mournful as my days.
You wore it,
Tied the jasmine wreath,
And I believed you understood,
The meaning of the jasmine bracelet.
It is brought to you by a man.
I thought you were aware…
This evening,
In a small tavern, I saw you dancing,
Cracking under the embrace of admirers,
Cracking…
And humming,
In the ear of your loyal knight,
With a tune of French resonance,
A tune as mournful as my days.
And I began to unveil the truth,
Realizing you were dressing for others.
And for him, you sprinkle perfumes,
You unravel and dress.
I caught a glimpse of the jasmine wreath,
On the floor… muffled moans,
Like a white corpse,
Being pushed by the throngs of dancers.
And your beautiful knight is yearning to take it,
But you refuse,
And you laugh,
‘Nothing warrants a bow,
That is just the jasmine wreath.’
The Poem of Departure
Let us part for a moment…
For the sake of this love, my beloved,
And for our good…
Let us part for a while,
For I wish you to increase in your affection for me.
I want you to dislike me a little,
For the sake of what we possess…
A precious memory held by both of us…
For the sake of that sublime love…
That is still inscribed upon our lips,
Still engraved upon our hands…
For the sake of what you wrote…
To me in your letters…
And your face, planted like a rose within me…
And your enduring love in my hair, on my fingertips.
For the sake of our memories
And our exquisite sadness and smile,
And the love that has grown larger than our words,
Larger than our lips…
For the sake of the fairest story of love in our lives…
I ask you to depart.
Let us part as beloved ones…
For birds in every season…
Part from the hills…
And the sun, my beloved…
Is most beautiful when it attempts to vanish.
Be in my life the doubt and the torment,
Be once a legend…
Be once an illusion…
And be a question on my lips
That knows no answer.
For a wonderful love
That dwells in our hearts and eyelashes,
And so I remain beautiful,
And you come closer.
I ask you to leave…
Let us part… while we remain lovers…
Let us part despite all love and tenderness.
For through tears, my beloved,
I wish to be seen by you.
And through fire and smoke,
I want to be seen by you.
Let us burn… let us cry, my beloved,
For we have forgotten,
The blessing of tears for long…
Let us part…
So that our love does not become a habit,
And our longing does not turn to ash…
And the flowers wilt in the vases…
Be reassured, my dear,
Your love still fills my eyes and conscience,
I am still enamored with your immense love,
I still dream of you being mine…
My knight and my prince.
But I, I fear…
I fear my emotions,
I fear my feelings.
I am wary that we may tire of our desires,
I fear our connection,
I fear our embrace.
So, in the name of a marvelous love,
That blossomed like spring deep within us…
That illuminated like the sun in our eyes.
And in the name of the sweetest love story in our time…
I ask you to depart…
So that our love remains beautiful…
So that it may endure long…
I ask you to leave…