As I sip my morning tea, the autumn sun outside, like a warm, tender wave falls over the trees in the garden. Beside me, on the desk, a book calls to be read, as though it were the tender eyes of a woman I love, inviting me to delve into them. My heart is filled with a strange stillness and calm as leaves falls all around.
Autumn morning…
in all beginnings is sown
the seed of their end
Clinging to summer’s heat
the autumn rain balming
the lips of flowers
~
On her white petals
the autumn rain clinging
to summer’s heat
~
Steering the rudder
the boat staggers
as drunk as he
~
This path to nowhere
I walk it alone
with nothing but a bag
~
Deathbed haiku…
the poet’s last breath
returns to the sky
~
…قلبي وما بقي منه
طيور تهاجر
في قمر الخريف
Autumn crossroads…
my heart a bird,
my soul a cloud
Autumn night…
hovering over still water
the moon asks,
‘Who is poet enough
to be alive
in this world?’
To an unheard music
waltzing at dusk…
the pine tree and the moon
Lived simply, in deep attention and presence, a life can be so full that its echo reverberates to the stillness of the stars — the garden’s dust on my shoes, a good book, a cup of aged wine, and your face, beloved, hovering around all things like a cloud, their inner light, their intimate aura. I write to you today as the sun sets over another autumn day, as the wind withers away the leaves and grass leaving nature and my thoughts bared down to their essence. Time is moving and life is trickling away, yet a deeper stillness is settling in my heart. It feels to me as though, if I lift my hand, I could almost touch your face; as though the warmth of your breath is mingled with mine. This silence is a prayer. I listen to the wind in the yellowing leaves. I write another poem penned with the ink of your love.
الشمس – دافئة لأنها تقول
…ما أقوله لك
أحبك بكل طيات روحي
~
Autumn sun and moon…
In this longing I walk,
an eternal child.
~
Birth and death…
The agony of being
a leaf in the wind
~
Abandoned playground…
The laughter of children,
leaves in the wind.
