Letter, August 03, 2019

Long after you were gone I still went to bed with your ghost every night, making love to nothing more than a memory, to my need for you, to all the ways in which I dreamed you and constructed you in my mind. I fashioned you out of light and poetry, out of pure passion, an unreal being that I now had to let go, to let you fly and vanish amid the turning stars. Now I let you go and deepen in this longing turning like a universe at the center of my heart.

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Free Verse # 438 (La poésie existe afin que l’homme sache comment caresser la femme)

The rain at dawn
sharpens your absence,
I wake up with my body
aching for your touch.

~

My ideal woman,
she’d wear summer for a dress,
with its jasmine flowers
she’d braid her hair;
her skin would smell
of its sun kissed apricot,
from her lips would flow
the velvet of its wine.

~

I looked into her eyes
searching for love,
but her heart was closed
and love was gone,
and I was out alone again
walking the endless waste
of this world we call modernity.

~

After all this time
I find that in my heart
I still love her,
achingly as if
in the shadow of absence
her love only grew,
tremendously as if
my lips against hers
were always pressed
though I only breathed her in
through the mouth of silence.

~

You feel her beauty swell in your heart not because of your attractiveness or looks, but because of what you feel when you look into her eyes.

~

This life of suffering out of loving her and not being able to have her is infinitely preferable to a life in which I did not know her at all.

~

Au moment où mon regard s’est plongé dans ses yeux je suis devenu un homme qui vit sur les mers.

The moment I gazed into the deeps of her eyes I became a man living his life sailing the high seas.

~

A man in love doesn’t measure the beauty of his woman by the shape of her body but by the depth he feels when he looks into her eyes.

~

La poésie existe afin que l’homme sache comment caresser la femme et sentir la blancheur de l’amour palpiter dans son âme.

Poetry exists so that a man may know how to caress a woman and feel the white wings of love flapping in her soul.

~

جمالها وهج
يكتنفه الغموض؛
الضوء في عينيها
بحر لا ينتهي.

Her beauty is a glow
shrouded in mystery;
the light in her eyes
is an endless sea.

~

A seafarer
sailing the sea of her eyes;
I sail in endless waters
never reaching a port,
never seeing a shore.
A seafarer
I sail the sea of her eyes,
and that sea is my home.

مسافر انا
في بحر عينيها،
بحر لا مرفأ فيه
ولا شاطىء؛
مسافر انا
في بحر عينها،
وبين امواج روحها
أجد سكناي ومنزلي.

Tanka # 175

كهمس الأوراق
خيال وجهها وهو يمرّ
بين حروف القصيدة،
تاركاً، في سماءها
خيوط فجرٍ أبيض كالماء

~

To write her name
in the form of a poem
and feel in it moving
all the swirling eddies
in the oceans of the world

~

Her dark hair
a rain of fire
flooded across my belly
and moving insatiably
to the rhythm of her head

Haiku # 614

L’amour…
cette courbe qui tend
vers l’infinie

~

Between me and you
a distance covered
by the shadow of poetry

~

Trempée dans ses cheveux
la lune s’attarde
à se lever

~

Do secret things to her…
leave your words stained
amid her thighs

~

More lucent still
than the fullness of the moon…
the pages of her skin

~

Plus luisants encore
que la pleine lune…
les pages de sa peau