Tag: Autumn

This November

Pierre Mhanna3 Comments

This November
I want to be a wild field
feeling into my bones
the surge of autumn,
surrendering and letting it all
fall down into the ground
to be cradled in darkness,
to know the meaning of long rest
and unperturbed sleep.

This November I want to go
deep down into my roots
to be acquainted again
with the nature of my being,
the stranger’s face, which is my face,
the face that I once loved
and must learn to love again.

This November I will let the summer wine
brew deep in my veins
with the warmth of its sun,
I will let my dreams
carry me over to the other plain
where spring arrives
with new wildflowers and fruits
and a renewed thirst for life
taking me to the edge of all that I am.

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Haiku # 701

Pierre Mhanna1 Comment

Autumn
one leaf then another
falls in the wind

الخريف
ورقة ثم أخرى
تقع في الريح

~

September
through the woods I take
the long way home

~

September
you’ll find my heart buried
in a pile of yellow leaves

~

I breathe her in
as though her skin
is the light of the moon

~

Autumn evening
my thoughts drifting
with the passing clouds

~

Deep in the forest
I find my heart still
like the air and leaves

~

Forever is just a word
between us
and the moon

~

الخريفُ يبدأ
برائحةِ الأرض أُعَطَّر
زوايا روحي

~

هو يحب النساء اللواتي
يعرفن كيف يتحولن إلى شعر
بين يديه

Haiku # 700

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Without a name
I go alone…
winds of autumn

Sans nom
je vais tout seul
sous le vent d’automne

~

Autumn evening…
the smell of a flower blooming
on the edge of my days

~

Autumn evening…
this loneliness deepens
with the colors of the sky

~

Her smile…
something to take with me
on the long journey

ابتسامتها
شيء لآخذه معي
في رحلتي الطويلة

~

Réunissant nos âmes
l’amour fusionne nos corps
en un seul poème

Haiku # 685

Pierre Mhanna1 Comment

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

Haiku # 684

Pierre Mhanna1 Comment

…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

Haibun # 5

Pierre Mhanna1 Comment

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

Haiku # 659

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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

~

Photograph by Jai Johnson

…قلبي وما بقي منه
طيور تهاجر
في قمر الخريف

Letter, October 05, 2019

Pierre MhannaLeave a comment

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.