Falling autumn leaves
even the cat is looking
through the window
~
وحيدا عند الغروب
لم يأت أحدا ليراني
الا مطر الخريف
~
سَنَونَوات أيلول
كأنها من طفولتي تعود
بذكرياتٍ تناثرت في الريح
~
This cold autumn
my heart warmed
by the image of her face
Falling autumn leaves
even the cat is looking
through the window
~
وحيدا عند الغروب
لم يأت أحدا ليراني
الا مطر الخريف
~
سَنَونَوات أيلول
كأنها من طفولتي تعود
بذكرياتٍ تناثرت في الريح
~
This cold autumn
my heart warmed
by the image of her face
يلفظ الكلمات كأنها
…أوراق خريف تتساقط
!الشاعر
~
Autumn returns
and my heart fills
with a nameless longing
~
La nuit descend…
dans un coin de mon cœur
s’allume une chandelle
~
Autumn evening
I light a candle
and open my book
~
Itinerant heart –
no house but the road,
no home but the wind…
~
Steeping my tea
as the moon quietly
looks through the window
…أوراق الخريف
بلا أثر يذهب
كل شيء
~
Autumn begins…
my heart a yellow leaf
listening to the wind
L’automne commence…
mon cœur est une feuille jaune
à l’écoute du vent
الخريف يبدأ
قلبي ورقةٌ صفراء تنصت
الى الريح
~
ولّى نصفها
حياتي التي تغوص
في ضباب الخريف
Its half gone
my life that steeps
in autumn mist
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.
Septembre…
Les hirondelles
planent
au-dessus de mon enfance
~
سنونوات
أيلول
أجنحتها المفتوحة
فوق طفولتي
Birthday cake…
Cutting them alone
the rest of my years
~
Le soleil de sa peau…
Dans l’ombre de ses branches
butinent mes poèmes
~
Last days of summer…
In the cry of birds
the shiver of coming rain
~
الكلمات في حلقي
شاخت ولم تسمعها
المرأة التي أحببت
In the autumn wind
dead leaves blowing,
detached lips
whispering in misty wisps
of gold and red.
First rainfall
above your grave –
Is it your voice
I hear
in the creeping mist?
The joy of reading a book
as dusk descends…
autumn evening
~
Autumn dusk…
I sip tea
and wait for the moon
~
Autumn dusk…
my shade leaving me
flies off
in the shape
of a lonesome bird
Moon at dawn…
today I choose
to surrender to your light
Cicada at dawn –
another day of sawing
rocks under the sun
~
Second day of autumn…
the chill of winter clinging
to morning’s foggy breath
Through the gray mist
the red gleam
of a smoldering pomegranate
~
A l’entendre respirer
mon cœur doucement rassemble
la couleur de l’aube
With nothing to show
standing at the crossroads
of the autumn of life
~
My life the mesh;
poetry, the burning flame —
praised be this dying.
~
The love I wanted…
in my open palms
the light of the moon
~
Borrowed from silence
the words I wanted
to give to the moon
Ecoutant le silence
et la chandelle qui tremble
au souffle des étoiles
~
Fuyant dans les herbes
le haïku du poète mort
un jour d’automne
~
Ma vie s’écroule…
il ne reste de moi
que ce poème d’amour
~
Fleur dans les herbes…
poète mort un automne
foudroyé d’amour
~
Brume dans les feuilles jaune…
de la vie il ne reste
que l’éternité d’amour