انكار / جيورجيوس سفريس

احببتك / بوشكين / نزار سرطاوي

You are in Baakleen*

 Hey you passer-by! 

Linger awhile
adjust the handles of your watch 
on the rhythm of things around you
The sun slows down his pace
as he passes from here
to fill his eyes with the Chouf foothills  
 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~     

Stop, O passer-by!
adjust the beats of your heart.
Here the crowns of Chouf Mountains
hug the clouds
here the brides of cedar
feed from the breasts of the sun
here is the ascension of love and ecstasy
here the gods pour their aged wine  
in the mouths of poets 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dismount O passer-by!
take off your sandals
for you are in Baakleen

_________________________________________

_{* Baakleen is a city located in Chouf Mountains, 45 kilometers southeast of Beirut, Lebanon. I was invited to Baakleen National Library reading in early 2011 to participate in poetry reading.}  

Plato

Thank you

for not including us in

your revolutionary city project

for not letting us play a tune

recite poetry

or prose

write a line

utter an alphabetical letter

or even breathe

Thank you

for not permitting us to build a home 

open a store

till the land

grow wheat olives willows

or roses

Thank you

for not granting us membership in

the Republican Party

for not allowing poets to open

an account

in the bank of your great state

or become members in your exclusive club

of the rational

Thank you

for sentencing us to exile

contrary to poets' rights...

And so we came out  

narrating and imitating

that we may not dry in that painting

within your walls

Thank you...

The Soldier

At snail’s pace

he strolled towards the other kingdom

leaving behind

two hollow eyes

goggling 

in dismay

at a gang of vicious beaks

banging and clanging

until they cracked

the curved bone

and went picking at the

wet

white

brain 

rain

listen sweetheart!

listen!

outside the rain

whinnies out loud

as it pummels the little hill 

and rests a while

then gently... gently penetrates

the soggy soft soil

hear the blossoms on the cherry tree

moaning with pain  

Eve

O our great grandmother!  

You, who were our original sin!

If you were just a rib

that Adam was robbed of

while he was

slumbering

or drunken

whence have you brought those cunning eyes

that dispossessed Adam of his power

liberated him

and us

from the luxury of paradise