Ruba’i # 27

I drink of her eyes, I drink of her lips
And shiver because a fire in me is lit,
Nourished by her breath, sustained by her soul,
It burns in me and makes the whole world glow.

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Free Verse # 434 (she is all the lights)

In your touch
I make transactions
with beauty,
selling each moment
for a veil of your light,
feeling the white
of your perception
shine from my soul.

~

My poetry,
its endless brushstrokes
paint the features
of my face;
look at it,
it has no eyes
but only a silence
with which to gaze
upon the world.

~

When I write
I imagine my fingers
touching her face
the way the moth hovers
around the candle-light,
I feel my hands
dipped in her skin
like oars rowing
in a starlit sea of poetry.

~

Looking at her
the poem tries
with burnings fingers
to describe her beauty,
but then it falls down,
speechless.

~

She is all the lights the city needs.

~

My heart
I feel it connected to yours
by a hidden string,
like night to the day,
like the sky to the earth
and to the rolling sea of stars.

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.

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.

Free Verse # 431 (a literature of sacred desire)

The moon at dawn,
to look at it I remember
the image of her face,
traveling from age to age
and now coming to wake
in the stillness of my heart.

~

All that ink
flowing along her curves
in rivers,
and I, the only one
able to read its flow;
but reading
is an act of writing,
and as I read
the words catch fire
and burn into her skin,
a literature of sacred desire
bursting
with the flame of poetry.

~

It’s enough
to touch her with my mind
for the cup
from my heart
to overflow

~

Dusk settles;
my breath,
like the silent fall of dew
infiltrates her skin,
gathers at her core.

Between us,
an ineffable dance
of shadow and light,
a poetry greater
than this finite world.

~

From her face
the knowledge of light
came to me,
came to alight like a bird
on the bough of my heart,
inside to make
its burning nest,
weep through my skin
and into the corners of the world
a song of joy and harmony.

Free Verse # 430 (poetry, poetry…)

L’air
à la touche de mes lèvres
devient la pluie
qui imprègne ton corps…

~

Ever since I walked in your light I knew that no darkness could diminish me.

~

Off the curves of her lips
light, like a wave,
seems to break, frothing,
a song of sweet sensuality,
a silken shawl tenderly wrapping
the heart of the wind.

~

I touch her and she flowers
as though autumn
has been slowly
gathering its fires
of gold, brown, and red
in the sea of her skin.

~

Silence takes me down
to the roots of poetry
and I find them rising
from the sea of your heart

~

At the corner of the street
I am suddenly caught
in the fragrance of a jasmine
stirring from a hidden garden
and all I can remember
is the image of your face.

~

On the good days
as on the bad,
your presence surrounds me
like a stillness in the air.

~

Poetry, poetry…
one more shot to make
this happiness weep
from the fountain of my heart

~

Poetry matures when she is able to live again in her house of childhood joy.

~

This longing in my soul
I live it
the way the flame transpires
into the stillness of the night,
reaching ever higher
into the unfathomable
elevatudes of your soul
even as I burn
into a thinning thread
of laughing ash,
even as I burn
and am no more.

~

We touched
and the sap of ancient roots
rose into our veins

~

She took flight into him
flapping her wings
with the intuition of a bird
who knows his migratory path
home —
she took flight into him,
rooted like a cloud
ever drifting through the sky
of his soul.

~

His touch
rises through her limbs
the way a flame descends
down through the wick
burning into the blissfulness
of her core

Free Verse # 429 (What is the poet?)

What is the poet if not a vampire with a thirst for bitter blood — the fire blood of poetry?

~

My hands move along her skin
like pilgrim birds
with their flight tracing
the eternity of the sky

~

The hidden tangible in her
that with every touch
I aim to invoke,
that I desire to caress
with my mere presence,
the depth of my heart,
the penetrative gaze of my soul;
I dampen her and excite her light
as my focus remains, centered,
on the ground of her being,
her core.

~

I wait for you
on the curve of something infinite
where the sea meets the sky,
in my hand
a flowering branch of jasmine
and a poem I wrote long ago
when my heart was still a child’s;
I wait for you,
my heart the burning pages of a poem
dripping with longing for your smile.

~

Entering my room
through the open window
your breath dishevels
the string of my thoughts
and awakens my longing;
the candle stirs
in her vertical burning
and my palms fill
with the rose-petals of your name.

~

With the night
your ghost comes
to torture me,
a gossamer figure
drawn with a soft fading fire
against the starry sky.