Free Verse # 433 (this moment is but a dream, vanishing)

In my love for you
the profanity of my spirit
once more
touched the hem
of God’s soul

~

This moment
is but a dream,
vanishing;
in the mirror
of its smoke
I behold your face,
ever dancing in the wind,
ever warm with grace.

~

Smoke and mirrors,
in this world
I only care to polish
the image of your face.

~

You wander through me
unchanged for eternities
like the ray of light
that shined from God’s heart
on the dawn
of the very first day

~

The music of your voice
comes back at dawn;
like a dewdrop on the leaf
I sit down and listen.

~

Having her here
sleeping next to me,
in the rhythm of her breath
a window opening
onto an endless sea.

~

Beloved, I only have eyes to see you through the window of my heart.

~

My heart burns for you
with the passion of petals
in a tight bud, unfurling,
with the desire of a seed
in the dark soil
feeling all around it
the heat of spring.

~

I am thinking of your voice
and the way it drifts at dawn,
a ray of warm sunlight
through the dewy cover of fog.

I am thinking of your breath
and the way it fills the sky,
starlight from distant galaxies
like dancing snowflakes falling down.

~

Looking through
the dictionary of the winds
for words to describe her,
I discovered the scent
of the jasmine flower
under the summer moon,
little fires of starlight
wandering the tilting sky
early before the dawn,
the words poets uttered
from a wounded heart,
the heated breaths
exchanged between
the merging lips lovers,
the ineffable presence of things
as they enter
the silence of God.

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Haiku # 614

L’amour…
cette courbe qui tend
vers l’infinie

~

Between me and you
a distance covered
by the shadow of poetry

~

Trempée dans ses cheveux
la lune s’attarde
à se lever

~

Do secret things to her…
leave your words stained
amid her thighs

~

More lucent still
than the fullness of the moon…
the pages of her skin

~

Plus luisants encore
que la pleine lune…
les pages de sa peau

Haiku # 613 | Tanka # 167

Dans la pluie
qui mouille mes lèvres
je goutte ton nom

~

Dans mes mains
je les acquis,
tes cheveux tombant
comme la pluie
de la voute du ciel

~

Imprégnée de rosée
sa peau de fleur respirait
le blanc de la poésie

~

Dans le jardin,
sous le ciel de l’aube,
sa peau de fleur
imprégnée de rosée
respirait la poésie.

~

Laying in the garden
at the break of dawn,
the flower of her skin
soaking in dew
breathed poetry.

Free Verse # 432 (my poem is a conversation with you)

في لفحة النسيم على وجهي
،أشعر بدفء أنفاسها
،هي التي لم أرها يوماً
هي التي أبحث عن وجهها
،في وجوه النساء
هي التي تفيض من نبضي
صمتاً جارحا
.أعمق من صمت السماء

~

Even in the middle of the crowd
we are always alone
when our eyes meet,
exchanging wordless messages
that rush like waves
into the bottom of our souls.

~

The gray clouds hung low
over the face of the earth;
touching her skin
with the silk of my breath
a moan escaped her mouth;
soon, the rain began to fall
and the rain did not stop;
our breaths merged
and our bodies, soaking in the rain,
caught fire, and burned,
consumed in each other
on the altar of sacred poetry.

~

My poems –
a hive of bees
working in the fields
of the invisible,
gathering silently
the nectar of its flowers,
fermenting
in the vessel of the Word
the hues of its sacred light,
building up slowly
a dawn burning with honey.

~

One touch from you
is enough
to annihilate me
and consume my life;
one breath is enough
to open up my heart
to the vastness of the sky.

Your existence elevates me,
lifts me out of the cycles
of pleasure, change, and transience,
rooting me in the stillness
of eternal love.

~

My poem
is a conversation with you
who inhabits a world of light
unseen by my eyes.

~

Caché à mes yeux,
je te vois avec l’œil de mon cœur,
et ton visage qui est
partout autour de moi
me réchauffe tendrement
avec la douceur et la passion
du vin éternel,
du vin bu
à la table de Dieu.