Walking to you
I lose count of the distance
as miles laps
into endless miles,
I lose count of the time
as days swiftly turn
to months, to years,
everything becomes
background and echo
and only you remain,
you, love, the focal point
around which all time and space
spin and converge,
you, the expansion in my heart,
giving my life
freedom and meaning,
filling each moment
with peace and ecstasy,
teaching me to live this poetry…
Pierre Mhanna
The day goes by
and I long for you
in a thousand silent ways,
like the waves that keep rolling,
like the wind that keeps blowing,
like the silence of dawn
that aches to be full with your light,
like this poem
turning to a blazing fire
as it fails to reach its final line…
امرأة بلا اسم (اسمها الشعر)
امرأة بلا وجه (وجهها ضياء الفجر)
امرأة بلا عطر (عطرها الحنين)
امرأة بلا وجود (هي كل زمن وكل مكان)
امرأة بلا صوت (صوتها همس في الصلاة)
امرأة في قلبي
،تفيض من عمق أشواقه
،تغمره ولا تحتويه
،تشربه ولا ترويه
،تحرقه فتحييه
امرأة هي الحب بذاته
.والوجه الخفي للاله
In the stillness of the night
I feel your voice
echo through me,
a sea of clouds brushing
the riverbed of stars.
~
The breath
escaping your lips
as you slept at night
at dawn I feel its dew
lacing my aching heart
بحسك بقلبي
كأنك الفجر بذاتو
جايب الشمس من بعيد
وجايي ليقهر بصدري
الليل وعتماتو
I look for you
in the secret places
known only
to the birds that fly
into the light of dawn
Falling dusk…
all the birds
returning home,
and my heart
is a bird too.
فاجأتني
فلم أكن اتوقعها؛
فاجأتني
وأخذت قلبي كالعاصفة؛
فاجأتني
وعلمت قلبي معنى
الخفقان والنبض؛
فاجأتني
هي التي لم أعرف
الا وجهها في أحلامي؛
فاجأتني
ولم أعرف أنها هي
الا بعد أن رحلت؛
فاجأتني
ثم تركتني غارقا
في عطرها وشعرها
وصوتها وبريق عينيها؛
فاجأتني
وها أنا أنتظرها
عل الانتظار
يمل يوما مني
ويريني الطريق
…إلى قلبها
Je ne suis qu’un fantôme
qui cherche la lumière
émanant de ton visage
pour pouvoir dans cet amour
se dissiper
My heart
is a broken compass;
its pointer,
though turning aimlessly,
always points to you.
This poem I inhabit…
a world of burning letters
all spelling her name
~
Your hand
I take it in mine
and the world smolders
like a monk in his cell
praying for God
In the dawn
I reach for you,
like a prayer
in endless wisps rising
to burn in the sun of God.
The poems I write to you
escape from my books
and go searching for you;
they become birds in the forests,
clouds sweeping
over the mountains and fields,
they become stars in the nightsky
and whiffs of summer flowers
enamored with the air.
They go searching for you
and find you everywhere,
they blend themselves with nature
to always stay with you
and so fire up my heart
with the knowledge of why
the whirling dervish turns —
he turns because of you, beloved,
who are all around, at all times, everywhere;
everywhere, through you,
the world’s axis turns,
you, the divine contradiction of love.
All night long
the firefly
between us
carrying messages
of burning light
Leaving my poem
on your windowsill…
a robin singing
the longing
in my soul
Across the ages
your voice
comes to me
traveling in the song
of a warbler at dawn
Your face
which I do not see
lights my path
as it burns its candle
in the chapel of my heart
Bien que tu n’es pas là,
la joie de toucher ton visage
avec les doigts du poème
enracine mon cœur dans la flamme
de l’éternel amour.
~
Though you are not here,
the joy of touching your face
with the poem’s fingertips
roots my heart in the flame
of eternal love.
I only have eyes to see your form,
ears to hear your voice,
nose to smell your fragrance,
skin to touch your body,
and tongue to utter your name –
my being, whatever it is,
is a hymn to your existence,
and the firebird
which entered my veins
as your lips brushed my palm
has now set my body ablaze
and consumed me whole.
I am the ash of your longing.
When I think of you
a bird alights in my chest,
his wings extending
wider than the sky.
A moment and then
his mighty wings flap
turning my ribs into dust
and annihilating my heart.
His mighty wings flap
and what remains of me
is a burning magnificence
in the censer of your love.
Rooted in Love 