I Write to You

I write to you
the way a bird
feels the wind
gliding under his wings,
the way the fire crackles
with passionate heat
to consume ever wildly,
the way a root
with infinite patience
descends into the dark;
I write to you
the way the rain
kisses the earth
after a long summer,
the way a monk
prays to God
in the solitude of his cell;
I write to you the way
wine ferments in darkness
and wheat grows gold
in the summer sun,
the way dawn fills the heart
with the still clarity of its light.
I write to you because I love you
and you have turned my life
into a journey of love.

Advertisement

Free Verse # 461 (one moment with you)

أجلُسُ وحيداً معكِ ولو كانَ بيننا ألفُ شخضٍ وشخص.

~

You pull me up when the whole world is pulling me down, and that is enough.

~

Rien ne réchauffe sans amour.

~

نحنُ دائماً مُغَلَفين بِأنفُسِنا.

~

قليل من الشعر ليروي عطش الليل.

~

Everyday
life flows a little more
into my veins
at the thought of touching you…
this life becomes fire
and has the name of poetry

~

In my dreams I wander
solitary as the moon,
only her eyes call me on and on
to hidden horizons,
to poetry, to wine,
to madness,
to a love so great
it tears open
the whole sky.

~

Though I come
with a laden heart,
one moment with you
empties me
of all my burdens.

~

Light touching her skin
A halo of poetry

~

When I touch you
even in thought
I am relieved
from that dreadful weight
pressing on my chest

~

Stripped bare
by this music;
a leaf
left trembling
in the passing wind.

~

Between his hands
her body swayed…
a violin aching
to weep
the sweetest music

~

The kiss he plucked from her mouth
a ripe fruit, red and bitter sweet,
filled with so much longing that
a tremor traveled between them
shaking the old fault lines and roots
and shaping them anew,
forged along the outlines
of their merging bodies.

Walking To You

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

Free Verse # 460 (forgotten by the years)

Like the sun,
like a candle,
like fog,
like the waves,
like birdsongs,
like silence,
your face
as I hold it
inside my heart.

~

This poetry,
I labor to make beauty
hoping that one day
it will touch your eyes.

~

You and me
in a cabin
by a forest lake,
counting the leaves
as they fall,
forgotten by the years.

~

Perhaps I knew you
in another life,
for when I think of you
my spirit moves like water
and sunlight becomes
the face of my soul.

~

In my memory
I run through the fields
of my childhood
with the summer sun
warm on my face

~

Winter day…
in the distance
I hear your voice
rolling with the clouds

Free Verse # 459 (كل ضجيج العالم)

كل ضجيج العالم يتلاشى عندما أسمع صوتك.

~

هي قصيدةٌ مكتوبةٌ بلغة
أرغبُ أن أُمضي حياتي
وأنا أُترجمها

~

في هذا العالم المجنون
يبقى حُبُنا ملاذُنا الآمِن،
فيهِ نكون نوعاً آخَرَ من الجنون،
فيهِ نكون أنا أنا وأنتِ أنتِ.

~

أكتبُ
كأنّ قصيدتي تتلمَّس
دفءَ بَشَرَتِها

~

قُبلتَها
كلما مرّ لساني على شفتي،
أحسستُ بطعمها،
نبيذٌ أحمر، نارٌ، شعر،
كأن روحي قد ثملت
وهي تشرب من روحها.

Haiku # 713

My love for you…
an inevitability
written in the stars

حبي لكِ
شيءٌ حتميّ
مكتوبٌ في النجوم

~

Le bras du vieux moulin
à chaque tournée découpe
la lune de son ciel

ذراع الطاحون القديمة
مع كلِ دورةٍ تقطع
القمرَ منَ السماء

The old mill’s arm
at each turn cutting
the moon from its sky

~

February…
peeking through my window
the morning sun

~

Winter night…
only the moon echoes
the stillness in my heart

~

Winter night…
of one silence
my heart and the moon

Free Verse # 458 (watching her sleep)

This warmth between us
the knitted verse of poetry

~

Life happens while you wait
for a lover to ease the knot of fate

~

What am I? — Just a shadow passing in the rain.

~

If someone asked me
what proof have I got
that I really lived,
I’d only have my poetry.

~

Wounded by this longing,
I write poetry.

~

Water washes the skin but rain cleanses the soul.

~

Barefoot
she walks in my dreams
spilling moonlight
from her dark hair,
her breath
a candle whispering
the softest intimacy.

~

Watching her sleep,
to the candle’s light
he weaves his breath
and covers her gently.

Haiku # 711

Cruising into old age,
reading books
and writing poetry.

~

With one foot in the grave
she sits smiling at me…
my mother

~

هذا المطر
في عتمةِ الليل عاشِقَين
يُقَبِلان بَعضَهُما

~

This rain…
in the dark night two lovers
passionately kissing

~

كقمرٍ في الماء
ترتَجِف
وأنا أُقَبِلُها

Love Desired

The passing years
knitted our lives
closer and closer
until we became
woven together
into a single fabric,
our beings emitting
a deeply harmonious music
as they merged over and over
with ever increasing intensity,
enlarging our love,
this world between us,
this infinitely warm nest,
to fill the whole sky,
mirroring each other
ever so truthfully,
ever so nakedly,
in the still water of our silence,
our shared and beating heart.

عن الشعر والحب

أقرأ قصائدي القديمة
لأجد فتات النساء
اللواتي أحببتهنّ يوماً
.واللواتي اختفين في الحقول
قصائدي كلها قصيدة واحدة
مرسومة كالوشم
،على بشرة المرأة الوحيدة
.والتي تختصر في كيانها كل النساء
قصيدتي انشودة مطر
،في حقل جسدها
قمر عالق
.في شعرها الأسود

Free Verse # 456 (this solitude)

Poetry,
my one faithful love,
the only one who keeps
watch over me
and waits
and waits
to touch my face
and fill my heart.

~

Not just the earth,
touched by autumn’s rain
even this longing
exudes poetry

~

The moon’s light dissolves
all memories
of past and future,
and ties everything
in a silent knot
that whispers: “now.”
Nothing exists
outside this moment,
nothing lives
outside your heart.

~

Je t’aime, il lui a dit,
chaque jour au lever du matin,
chaque jour au coucher du soleil.

أحبكِ، قالها لها،
كل يوم عند طلوع الضوء،
كل يوم عند مغيب الشمس.

~

In the end, logic is the death of man; it’s where the poetry in his soul goes to die.

~

For a poet, it is enough, in this world, to have a little corner in which to sit with a book, a desk and some paper, to read and write to the light of a candle, lit by the impassioned flame of longing.

~

There are many who preach hate in the name of love.

كثيرون هم من يبشرون بالحقد باسم الحب.

~

I value a heart by how much longing it is capable of holding.

~

My life – I measure it in moments of poetry.

~

This solitude – without it I would not recognize my face.

Haiku # 701

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

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

Free Verse # 455 (Naufragé du monde moderne)

Nudity is just another veil.

~

Naufragé du monde moderne, j’ai pris refuge sous le ciel de la poésie.

~

Longing – a word filled with endless distances.

~

رحلةُ الشِعرِ هذِهِ لعلّها لا شيءٌ آخر غير البحث عن لمسةِ امرأة.

This journey of poetry – perhaps it was nothing more than a search for a woman’s caress.

~

معطرٌ بأنفاسها
الدخان من فمها يصعد
ليملأ الغرفة
بحجابٍ رقيق
من الرغبة

~

In his heart
he feels her beauty
transformed into an ink
that he longs to write back
on the pages of her skin

~

Jalouse
une à une
elle empreinte ses baisers
en touchant les lèvres
au bout de ses poèmes

~

Early morning,
the sound of a rooster
crowing in the distance,
the wind stirring in the tall trees
as a bird softly sings,
your head resting on my belly
with my fingers running
through your black hair.
If happiness ever was
it is this moment.

Haiku # 697

Poème inachevé…
tremblant je quitterais la vie,
une feuille d’automne…

~

من عُطرِكِ عرفتُ اسمِكِ
لا أقولُهُ ولكني
أحفظَهُ في داخلي

~

From your fragrance
I knew your name
I don’t say it
but safe keep it
deep in my heart

~

في حفنة تراب
كم من دمعة وابتسامة
بعثرها الزمن؟

In a handful of dirt
how many smiles and tears
scattered by time?