COBORAND DIN CER

Coborand din cer

Lumina scanteie pe ale tristetii buze,

Legata de umbra unui strop de apa

Si vede ochii fara lumina sorbind de ieri setea,

Tremurand in fata mortii de maine oglindita..

Nimic pe fata timpului straluce,

Doar ieftin spectacol monoton ,

Nostalgia risipita pe rugul imaginatiei,

Cautandu-si singuraticele tipete,

Doar tristete si nescris poem intalneste

Intre tomnaticele frunze...

Linistea goala, fertila la poarta iernii bate

Adapostind flamandele cuvinte

Teama fiindu-i de intuneric,

Umpland emanciparea in dorinta

Scrasnind sub pasii tai, Oh, aurit Inger !

Nu atarna bataia aripilor tale pe lucia cripta,

Ca gradina care te conduce spre sanu-i

Si suge laptele inchinaciunii,

Sa nu planga..

O, Inger al acestei nopti inlacrimate,

Dumnezeu respira un alt vis decat al lui,

Priveste esenta acestui poem plin de gandurile mele,

Poruncindu-mi sa cobor din cer..

Fiecare purtam in noi un paradis pierdut,
Trecem spre celalalt taram al corpului,
Schimband doar forma lutului..

Poem by Munir Mezyed,

translated by Haminia Haar

16th Janury 2013

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 Descending to the Sky

Light leans on the lips of sorrow that is tied to a shadow of lost water 

Sees empty eyes drink the thirst of yesterday 

It trembles when seeing death standing before the mirror of tomorrow…

  

Nothing on the table of time but very poor theatrical show

And scattered images by nostalgia in the pyre of imagination

Searching for their lonely screams 

They find nothing but sad and unwritten poem 

Between the autumn leaves….

Naked and fertile silence knocks on the door of winter 

Sheltering the hungry words 

And afraid of the anger of darkness 

Getting filled with the desire of emancipation

Cracking under your steps, O golden angel….

Do not hang the flap of your wings on the glass of the crypt

So that the garden that guides you to its breast 

And suckles you the milk of worship 

Will not cry …

O angel, in this torn night

God breathes another dream which is not his dream

Looks at the body of the poem which is covered by the feathers of my thoughts

Ordering me to descend to the sky ….. 

Each one of us carries inside a lost paradise

We pass the other bank of the body to the place

Wherein we change the shape of mud…

Munir Mezyed