Like the sun, at night, burns in the nether
Breathing light way below the thick leather,
So at the twilight of life we alight,
From eye to eye pour, free from all tether.
Crashing on the shore,
The wave recedes back to heart
Heaving a soft sigh.
River of passion,
A joy breaks my chest open
Rushing for the sun.
the birdsongs at dawn,
waves of exaltation
the birdsongs at dusk, a sea
of red waves, melting
Rain is but the thirst of earth for earth,
Heart the entanglement of light in light.
So it were, so it shall be.
المطر ما هو الا عطش الأرض للأرض،
والقلب ما هو الا هيام النور في النور.
هكذا كان، هكذا يكون.
I am water thirsting
For love’s lips
عطش المياه لشفاه الحب،
أغنية المطر فوق حقل الحياة
Wandering through a pine forest one early morn, his thoughts fluttering with the birdsongs, bathing in the clear, bright air, he came upon a high cliff, and as his gaze relaxed, stretching unto the far horizon ahead, his being spoke,
‘I began to write poetry only after a life that laid deeply dormant within me began to wake. My poetry is the tree rings widening with the pulse of her awakening, a telluric power that speaks and speaks ever more certainly, the records of a time stepping out of its own bounds and into…
A bat in twilight ocean,
As night slept, dreaming,
The apple tree bloomed, to sing,
Early this morning.
I’ve hung to mind’s thread for far too long,
an ever thinning string of hope
keeping me from wholly drowning in the stew
brewing somewhere in unknown depths.
The ribbon of mist suddenly evanesces
as into the sky I fall,
a wine-ocean fermenting lost voices at dusk
to give them back bright clear at dawn.
Heart, a seashell opens,
on the silken, red tongue
the white pearl of silence.
The breeze cools as mist
Sweeps over the mountain’s face,
On the leaf, a snail.