Unfinished poem…
at dusk I sit watching
a leaf in the wind
~
Loneliness –
without it I’d be
just a face in the crowd
~
Moonflower
her body in my bed
burning softly
~
Sous la lune d’été
sa peau nue sauf
de la chaleur de ses baisers
تحت ضوء القمر
بشرتها العارية الا
من حرارة قبلاته
Summer moon…
her bare skin covered
in the warmth of his kiss
The way home…
star to star I kiss
the freckles of her skin
~
Autumn approaches,
on my lips
I can already taste the wine
of a cool evening
lost in the valley
amid the shadowy hills,
a fire burning slowly
as the wind shivers
in the frail leaves
while nature prepares
her long sleep.
~
Touchant sa peau
ses doigts ont glissé
tout au long de sa mémoire
à l’endroit où l’amour
est terre natale
~
البلد هو المكان الذي نعيش فيه ؛ الوطن هو ما نحمله في قلبنا.
~
اطمأنت له
فانغرست فيه
كجذر شجرة
مشتاقة إلى باطن الأرض،
اطمأنت له
فسافرت فيه
كطائرٍ مهاجر
سماؤه لا حدود لها.
اطمأنت لحبه
فسكنت فيه
وهدأ قلبها.
~
كان بينهما شيئاً كالليل،
غير منظور وأبدى.
~
Dawn rises,
morning arrives,
on the altar of light
I break the bread
and drink the wine,
I listen to the silence
as it empties my heart,
I write a little poem
and let it fly,
and I welcome with joy
what the day will bring,
let it take the shape
of my longing, my spirit, my light.
~
Only with his words
did he touch her skin,
and only once did his verse glide
along the edges of her mind,
but his words stayed
as their bodies drifted apart,
etched and shining like stars
in the sky behind her eyes.
~
I penetrated her
long before I touched her,
I vanquished her
with unbearable tenderness,
I seduced her open
so open that when a single
breath touched her skin
she trembled and filled
with an ocean of stars.
~
When I look into her eyes
all history is erased
and nothing exists
except this moment,
a passion growing
inside this majesty
of knowing and being known
without words,
heart to heart.
~
لم المس جسدها،
ولا حتى عقلها،
بل شيئاً ما في داخلها
جعل الحب يجيء
كما الربيع من
باطن الأرض.
~
من شعرها انسدل الليل
وفاض في جسدها،
اسود مائي في بشرتها
الممتلئة من نمش النجوم،
واصابعه ريشة ترسم
شهبا وانوار وهي تمر
بين المجرات السابحة
في بحر جسدها؛
بين يديه اضحت كوناً
أوله شعر وآخره صلاة،
وما بين الشعر والصلاة
بخورٌ ونبيذٌ وشبقٌ
وسرُّ اسرارِ الحياة.
~
الغمازات أسفل ظهرها
نوتات موسيقية،
ان داعبتها على مهل،
ان قبلتها، تحركت كالكمنجة في جسدها،
تكسرت كالموج على بشرتها،
منها فاضت لتملأ كأس نبيذك
موسيقى ورذاذ بحر
وشعرٍ مبلل بعطرها.
من كل شيء
تعرّت
وارتدت ما حاكه لها
من نفسه
وضوء القمر
Noir de nuit
dans la flamme j’entends
le murmure de mes pensées
~
Whenever I smell her skin
on my face I feel
the spray of summer waves
~
In her eyes I see
the spinning core
of the galaxy
~
Blancheur d’hiver…
son corps dans mon lit
un cerisier en fleurs
~
Un tableau de Vincent
dans son corps nu tourne
la nuit étoilée
Bathed
in moonlight
her naked body
a landscape of fire
pierced by the red
of autumn leaves
بعد اللقاء
في منتصف الليل
أشمّها في شعري
وثيابي…
رائحة البخور
المحترق في فمها
~
الدخان في فمها
بخورٌ يناجي
معبد الاله
My thoughts
my breath
my words
melt into her
and I touch her
silently
where she has never
been touched;
I touch her heart
I touch her soul
I light a fire in her blood;
I welcome her darkness,
I embrace her light
and I feel her in my heart
growing deeper than the earth
shining brighter than the sun;
I take her everything,
her past, present, and I future,
and I give her the gift
of my masculine heart:
I open her to God,
I open her to life,
and in that connection
I become a man
living his days
to the fullness of his heart.
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
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
Dans la pluie
qui mouille mes lèvres
je goutte ton nom
~
Dans mes mains
je les acquis,
tes cheveux tombant
comme la pluie
de la voute du ciel
~
Imprégnée de rosée
sa peau de fleur respirait
le blanc de la poésie
~
Dans le jardin,
sous le ciel de l’aube,
sa peau de fleur
imprégnée de rosée
respirait la poésie.
~
Laying in the garden
at the break of dawn,
the flower of her skin
soaking in dew
breathed poetry.
Her naked body
lying in my bed –
the whiteness of winter
pierced by the red
of autumn leaves
Terre natale…
dans sa peau à miel de lune
la fleur de la rosée
~
A la caresse de mon souffle
elle tremble dans sa peau
de miel et de rosée
Autumn setting in…
the tree inked on her back
will it lose its leaves too?
Mists of dawn…
my face buried in her hair
pooling on the pillow
~
Between me and her
a path covered
by the silence of stars
~
Summer dawn…
into the sultry air
moaning a fire bird
the shape of her lips
منسلاً عند الفجر
القمر فوق السطوح مداعبا
عري جسدها
~
صرخة الغراب
وردة سوداء
في حقل الربيع
~
The crow’s caw
a black rose swaying
in a field of flowers
Her blouse open,
two cherries topping
the poem he inked
in the garden
of her breasts.
Across lifetimes
we beckon each other,
two birds calling
from the leafy boughs
as the tree of time
grows and sprawls,
its roots rising
from eternity,
its branches spreading
in the sky of love.
~
His touch seethes the sun in her skin.
~
In his web of words
rocking gently
as the fire of his being
burns her body
to a slow gush,
her sultry water
his cup of wine,
the ink of his poetry.
~
Dawn…
in the white silence
our shared breath,
flowering
~
Her poem
rubs against his fullness,
sultry waves probing
the deeps of his ocean,
her flowers imbibing
the light in his words.
~
Dawn…
her body over mine,
her being in mine
shuddering
as the world is born again,
as from the ash of our poem
we are reborn.
~
The love of love
for which words
are messengers,
vessels carrying
the eternal flame.
~
His touch is not physical
yet it binds her;
his shadow
comes over her
and her ocean
is at the root
of his mountain,
waves unfolding
from her core.
~
Dusk settling…
in my heart the winged
dance of poetry
~
Love sighs and we scatter,
embers in the wind,
our bodies
the dust of ancient stars
catching fire once again,
burning in eternal light.
~
His words in her mouth
a succulent ferment
of a thousand poems
burning all at once.
~
In this transient world only love endures.
Poème en fleurs…
sur ses seins le rouge
des baisers printanier
~
Waiting on a whisper
that never comes…
midnight moon
~
Reaping her moans…
red leaves steeping
in a bowl of wine
Spring rain…
a wet world scurrying
to hide in her skirt
~
عالم طرفه
بمطر الربيع مبلول
يركض ليحتمي
بمشمش ساقيها
Love was between us
and she was a tailoress,
fitting my poems
to the curves of her skin,
the sinews of her breath.
~
With a breath,
with a word,
with a heartbeat,
with a ribbon of your fragrance
fill my heart to overflow,
grant me your light
as a gift of life.
~
Our poetry…
two birds
to one another
deep in the woods
calling.
~
Wetness dripping…
poetry dissolved
amid her thighs
~
The anchor of your breath
once fell into me,
now my skin is all rust
from the salt of your sea.
~
Stirring softly,
a breeze amid the trees
at dawn,
my breath in starseeds
dewing on your skin,
your dark hair
a mooncloud
in my spring of poetry.
Rooted in Love 