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marți, 11 noiembrie 2014

About my translations of more than 400 poems of Munir Mezyed at his polite request . SInce January to October 2013.


  • Thank you for this comment, Munir. You, yourself asked me to translate more than 400 of your poems which I have in my notebooks and for which I worked many months in 2013 until September when you still asked me to translate a poem. I like your poems very much, I could understood them in your vision, as You told me all time . All your Face Book readers and poets appreciated my translations very much, I have their appreciations. It is true that I worked alone at my translations and nobody helped me to understand some of your expressions or words which are much different from all the other poets. When I asked you something about the meaning of "Water" and "Wet" in your verses for knowing how to translate them into Romanian, you told me to write exactly "Water" and "wet" and some other words that you use and they can not be translated into Romanian the same with your thoughts. I met many times unknown by me names and I asked you their meaning, but you also said to write them as you wrote , not to translate them. The names are Arabic names, I think. You didn't have time to talk with me about my translations or to check them. You were very content about my work and you didn't have time to speak about every poem. You asked me to hurry up, hurry up with the Big Book for Romania, as you called the book " Scarlet Sky Glitters with Legends". I asked you all time to check my translations and you said that all of them were very good. I have your good appreciations in my folder with your poems translated into Romanian. If you told me that something was wrong, I would have asked you to correct me, of course. Now, after more than a year, you tell me that the translations are not correct...? Why didn't you ask Prof.Conf.Dr.Daniel Deleanu, Marius Chelaru and Maria Murgasi to check my translations and to tell me at that time ? I would have liked very much to talk with you about each poem or with a Romanian poet who knows good English in order to understand your poems and Romanian language. I was alone in the ocean of your poems, I worked a lot and you were very content, praising me every day after finishing any poem. I know a very good Romanian language, that University teacher doesn't know my knowledge, he read only some verses which I wrote as you told me, without any translation of some expressions and words, names. I agree to speak with any University teacher from Romania about your poems translated by me. You didn't give me any indications and I made everything alone, in my understanding. I also saw some grammar mistakes in the small book published by you, but they were printed wrong. Is it possible for an editor in Romania to publish a book without checking all the words and lines of the writings ?? We never talked about any of your books translated by me. I asked you hundreds of time in written to tell me When will you publish our three books and you always told me that you didn't publish my translated books into Romanian because it cost very much, You told me in written message that I can publish them by myself if I have the necessary money, like Graziella Ardia from Italy. Your wife told me the same, to publish my three books with your poems by myself. I was very upset because you abandoned me after working so much with so much pleasure for your beautiful poems. I didn't want to be a poet, I have never thought to translate anything until you asked me to translate your poems, in January 2013. Many of my Romanian friends like your poems written by me in Romanian, I think that my translations reflect your thoughts in your original poems and they are very good ! You say that your wife can speak many foreign languages, It is very good, I congratulate her. You never asked me how many languages I can speak and write. I know that I translated the second book for you and you published it under the name of your wife, not telling me any word. It was a shock for me to see such behavior .We were good friends in poetry and you and Madalina considered me your angel. I always wanted you to have great success in Romania, too and I helped you more than I could ever think before I met your poems . I was on your side when you were sad about your future life in Romania, in February 2013 when you didn't know if you would receive the Romanian citizenship or not. You remember ..

Haminia Haar,

  • Munir Mezyed Thank you .Yes Haminia have translated some of my poems to Romanian but Sadly your translation is not good enough for the level of my poetry ,,,the worst thing is that you do not know the grammar and the spelling of your own language ,,,These are not my words but the words of the Romanian writers, critics and 2 important professors from University of Bucharest who read the book Purple Odes Searching for Honey..not only this....I gave the poems to a good publisher in Romania as he wanted to publish my poetry since he heard of me and asked me if I have poems in Romania ..I answered him yes...I gave him 3 books which are translated by Prof.Conf.Dr.Daniel Deleanu ,Marius Chelaru and Maria Murgasi but now I have another translator who I give to her a chance to become a name in world poetry ,her name is Haminia Haar,,, Sure he does not know you or ever heard of you as a poet,,,but I told him that you are Romanian poet who writes in he asked me this is great...then send me the poems ...After I sent him..he told this lady she Does Not Know Her Own Language ,so when I found out that I stopped and asked my wife who is a doctor and she speak 12 languages,not only Romanian correct and she never copy one letter from nobody because she is so proud of herself ( and believe me I insist to her to help me in this way ,and you already know she never was involved in my work ,in other way than help you (* in translation in private) and you ,(not her ) to become someone in world poetry ,as you know she is very famous DOCTOR in Italy and France she do not need you or me to make her famous,because she already are before to be my wife or before to know you ) ,to translate my poems ... But still if you can publish your translation of poems to Romania...Please do,..but I am sure no publisher will publish your translation as it is full of errors ,.,thank you for your understanding.

  • Munir Mezyed,
  • November11,2014





The Romanian translation by Hamini Haar of " THE EPIC "



(Poezia este calea spiritului spre emancipare si
Eliberare )

Munir Mezyed,
In romaneste de Haminia Haar

O, mar al vietii cu gust de sange si lacrimi !
Aroganta inundatie a setei curge din ranile pamantului
Smulgand respiratia enigmei
De pe buzele meditatiei..
Mormane de durere tipa in oglinda mea,
Umbra este insetata,
Iar apa este ranita si exilata…

O, sare a durerii in painea ingerilor, vis !
Afrodita a fost ucisa la Curtea lui Korach.
Eu am furat focul sacru de la zei
Cand l-am adus pe pamantul intoxicat de intuneric
Si apa incepe sa relateze povestea mea…

Umbra alba coboara la marginea noptii
Catre o lumina care ridica cupa mea spre buzele-i insetate..
O voce secreta imbratiseaza momentul gol
Ingrijorata sa vada scena…

La orizontul invizibil multime de nimfe
Vorbesc despre marea ratacita in cerul contemplatiei mele
Care aluneca in cupa…

Evadand din padurea albastra
Dumnezeul viselor coboara in memoria mea..
El arde focul contemplatiei cu apa talismanelor
Si ineaca apa durerii cu focul farmecului…

Astfel, iata-ma asediat, dragostea mea
Intre valurile focului si flacarile apei..
Floarea respiratiei mele atarna de pieptul odei,
Buzele tale
Umezite de cuvinte ..!

Extazul isbucneste in templele cantecului
Te vad venind din pantecul cuvantului,
Un vis albastru
Si cand atingi floarea cuvintelor mele
Ea infloreste, nu se opreste din
sarutul degetelor dumnezeiesti
Pana cand cade ploaia…

Ce delicioasa ploaie saruta cu ochii ei calzi
Mana rece a visului agatat de peretii apei
Si poarta burnita vocii catre pasarile calatoare
Astfel, marea ma vede un cantec curgand
Din gura nevazutului
Potolind setea sufletului…

Murmurul Luminii straluceste de profetie
Si uda cu parfum etern venirea lui Dumnezeu la mine
Din respiratia cuvantului ratacitor
Intoxicat cu focul delicioasei dureri
Purtand ranile luminii zilei
Si gemetele serilor invelite in nostalgie
Intrebndu-ma :
Cine adaposteste picaturile de liniste ?
Cine goleste cosul amintirilor ?

Astfel, sufletul se onduleaza pe sanul gol al luminii
Si culoarele imaginatiei izbucnesc in flacari
In templele linistei..
Orice este nevazut se transforma intr-o oglinda
In oglinda divina
Spargand aripile timpului
Lasand umbra alba sa se evapore
In ecoul viziunii…

Cine stie
In ce colt al apei
Eternitatea se ascunde de ochii timpului ?


Muzica visului tacut se aude din floarea creatiei
Peste aripile apusului de soare
Inundatia curge in gura dorintei,
Astfel, pamantul si cerul se prabusesc
In povestea noastra…

Neasteptata ceata a dorintei arde noaptea..
Delirul tacerii se trezeste din izvoarele luminii
Si valurile visului se ciocnesc de obositele
Multimi ale imaginatiei mele..
Astfel, marea isi pierde cositele albastre in moarte.
Cerul devine lampa luminand cu ecoul stelelor
Si lumina trista dintre coloanele reci ale
Intunericului se evaporeaza.
Nimic nu ramane din ea, decat una care
Spune povestea…

Oh, Doamne !
Cand se va linisti latratul nebunesc al
Acestei nopti ude ?
Lacrimile din cuvinte inca picura de pe buzele Odei
Nespunand un cuvant, dar tacerea vorbeste..


Exista o cale care pluteste deasupra aromei divine,
Un port pentru muza calatoare spre nemurirea mea
Eu continui sa ridic marea la buzele insetate
Ale vocii tale
Pana la sfarsit..
Nimic nu este al meu, doar un vis in care
Cerul doarme in genele sale…

Din aceasta ceata aramie din ochii apei,
Multimi de lumini zboara spre visul adormit
In cuiburile lor.
Valurile intunericului venind din chemarea mortii
Incearca sa patrunda in orizontul viziunii albe…

Apa, acest farmec virgin in care imaginatia se
Sparge in bucati
Deseneaza legendele Creatiei
Si bea pacatele acestui infinit nihilist…

Oh, Vale sacra a vietii care
Respira imnurile padurilor invizibile,
Nimeni nu te vede decat copacii insetati de cantec
Si acele pasari cantatoare in pantecul cuvintelor.
Acolo mergi impodobita cu secrete si talismane
Intr-o gradina suspendata intre cer si pamant.


Fiecare vis fara pacat este lacrima
Tisnind din ochii cuvantului.
Vocea ratacitoare inca are
Obsesia intoarcerii spre copilarie
Impietrind usile intunericului
Cu pietrele melodiilor
Ea vede multimi de lumini
Ude in apa mortii
Cautand monumentul ploii
Prin atingerea lui Dumnezeu..

Oh, lumina care trece intre Dumnezeu si mine,
Povestile cu farmec inca varsa lacrimi de dorinta
In inima mea
Si imaginatia mea se opreste sa nu fure focul sacru
Pana cand oda devine Gradina Cereasca
Mai mare decat Universul,
Mai profunda decat tacerea,
Mai rebela decat apa si imaginatia
Si mai delicioasa decat feminitatea.

Un nor este adormit in poala luminii
Raza ei straluceste deasupra petalelor
Intoxicate ale apei
Iarna se pierde in murmurul calator
In adancurile cantecelor invaluite in mister.
Privesc timpul ofilindu-se in oglinzile sufletului
Pe leaganatul aripilor fluturelui
Si ultima noapte a marii cufundandu-se
In strigatul nectarului…

Tot ce este invizibil isi flutura vocea in memoria mea
Si in imaginatia mea parfumul cerului sangereaza
Peste umbra misterioaselor flori
Savurand urletele intunericului.

Pamantul isi deschide gatul prin cuvintele mele
Frunze sacre de busuioc tasnesc din rocile durerii
Parfumate cu Ode Mezyedistice si farmec divin
Astfel, valurile visului urca spre setea pamantului
Si floarea de lotus inscrie pe fata cerului
Secretele invierii…

Oh, pereti ai durerii in templul dorurilor mele
Cantece umede de iubire cresc pe buze
Triste sa plece inainte de a le culege…

Tristetea deschide ferestrele amintirilor,
Aroma misterioasa din roua imaginatiei
Poemul ma intreaba :
Cine ma va invata sa sorb foc dintr-o picatura de roua
Cand nostalgia umple fiinta mea ?

Curand apare prima tentativa
Dansand cu mine intre doua oglinzi
Doua umbre
Pana cand timpul devine femeie
Purtand rochiile povestii uitate…

Din notiunile cerului prins
Intre pleoapele imaginatiei
Imnurile parfumului picura peste trupul mort
Al povestilor
Linisting culmea ploii care varsa lacrimi de apa.
Chemarea luminii se intinde spre memoria copacilor
Si in frunze moarte taciunii de dorinta cresc
I noapte..

Cine spune ca apa nu are memorie ?
Si lumina care alapteaza nu are vis ?
Marea urca scarile vocii mele spre tine
Cand lopetile intunericului sapa cerul cuvintelor.

Ce fior soarbe mierea farmecului tacerii
Cand tacerea sangereaza setea de a vorbi
Oh, apus de soare , nu te intrista
Mugurii luminii sunt inca mai puternici
Decat nebunia nimicului…
Fructele viziunii se coc sub valul flacarei
Si malurile uitarii poarta secretele felinarelor

Oh, suflet gol, pentru dulceata contamplatiei
Nu stii ca vocea mea trece peste acoperisul caselor
Spre invizibila oglinda ?
Astfel vad gurile stelelor pline cu focul delirului
Zorostea implantand lumanarile inspiratiei
In drumul meu…

Si Minerva dansand goala in fantana farmecului
Pur al odei mele
Declarandu-si pocainta…

Oh, Templu de lut arzand !
Oh, delicioasa esenta a apei !
In inima mea, unei pasari magice ii place sa cante
Pe ramurile ude ale eternitatii din roua nevazutului
Invatandu-ma sa zbor cu emotia sufletului…

Oh, Iubito,

Tu esti torta pasiunii in templul Luminii eterne
Acest orizont rosu pe care calca odele
Respira aroma asteptarilor tale
Astfel, noaptea se dizolva in amurgul albastru
Si ceata umbrei mele
Poruncile lui Biddha sunt vizibile in filele mele
Si barca scufundata a lui Rimbeaud pluteste
In gandurile mele…

Ploaia are aroma imaginatiei sacre
Gustul nevazutului
Culoarea eternitatii care migreaza spre tine !

In delirul seductiei fatale
Salome danseaza
Si profetul cu aripa rupta
Sta obosit in lacrimile saraciei
Privind la muza decapitate
De limba sclavilor…

De ce ma tem in templele noptii
Este sinuciderea lunii pepieptul lui Herodias
Si de stelele spanzurate de pofta lui Herod..
Il vad pe Dumnezeu trist radicand vocea si
Strigand : Baal a murit !
Cerul era visul lui dinintea nasterii sale…

Copacii nu mai suporta sa faca fructe
Si cei morti isi lasa mormintele la mare
Peste aceste varfuri
Lumina aduna lacrimile ierbii in cosul ei
De vorba cu Dumnezeu langa frunze de toamna…

In inima furtunii
Soarele vasleste spre vocea mea cu vele rupte
Si in aceasta tacere adanca ce pluteste spre vis
Cuvintele se uita la oglinda imaginatiei mele
Purtand verdele zapezii
Si albul dorintei…

Intre apa alba si apa albastra
Ciorile oarbe de jale violeaza feminitatea crinilor
In templele cuvantului
Carnea cerului este gatita sa satisfaca
Legendele intunericului…


Respiratiile durerii tale tremura cerul ascuns
In ochii lui Dumnezeu
Picaturile timpului pline de imaginatie curg
In buzele ranite ale apei…

Totul devine mugur tacut in rugaciunile mele
Lebedele albastre danseaza ultimul lor dans
In amintirea anotimpurilor
Ingerii vin din casele abandonate ale lui Baal
Acoperite de curcubee…

Stol de porumbei la orizontul mort
Incearca sa explice secretul din spatele zdrobirii valului
Luna apare din pantecul ei spunand :
Este moartea mea inaintea nasterii mele
Dintr-o data marea striga foarte tare,
Ah, este noaptea care isi ploua goliciunea
In gatul meu !

In Sidrat al Muntaha
Oda asculta
Derutata, clatinand din cap
Ea urca spre cerul imaginatiei
Spunand : Oh, poetule,tu esti fericit si ciudat !
Cum ai putea sa intelegi jocul creatiei
Cand esti o picatura de apa
In marea adanca , intunecata ?


Eu merg pe drumul fara de intoarcere
Spre primul cuvant
Cantand secretul din spatele setei marii
Si a foamei cerului
Si in sanctuarul sacru al iubirii
Vises s ail vad pe Dumnezeu…

Tristetile sunt pomi cristalini care
Cresc in memoria toamnei
Fructele lor sunt legende reinoind Psalmii vietii
Datorita uimirii mele extreme.
Ma vad sarutand buzele nevazutului
Astfel, convoaiele apei tes orizontul sarutului…

Oh, buze dulci care vad dincolo de
Imaginatia nevazutului
Cum sa explic scurtarea distantei
Dintre Om si Dumnezeu ?
Cum sa explic ca sunt un alt Cristos
Care este crucificat in Oda, buzele tale ?

Lunga iarna si rece
Tristetile luminii sunt fara sfarsit
Se va naste un alt izvor din arderea mea ?

Vartejurile dorintei lovesc malul visului dormind..
In imaginatia tacerii
Iar parfumul odelor cauta urmele brodatelor saruturi
Si ale imaginatiei
Astfe, barcile cu amintiri zboara cu aripile contemplatiei
Catre sursele de lumina
Intrand in sufletul perete care separa
Expansiunea de eternitate.
Te vad pe tine in gradina cu ploaie ,
Un cer aramiu stralucind de legende
Unde odele si focul etern al pasiunii danseaza.


Exista o nimfa pe culuarul nevazutului
Plantand in solul vocii mele
Un portret de fluture scaldandu-se in lumina
Talismanelor in spuma pasiunii..
Portret de femei ale haosului picurand
Nebunia feminitatii
Peste Floarea Lunii
Portret de tunete bubuind cu sete pentru
Laptele cuvintelor…


Moartea nu ma stie pe mine
Bucura-te !
Sunt copilul rasfatat al lui Dumnezeu
El ma invata cuvinte despre apa si foc
Limba pasarilor si cantecul copacilor…

Cu parfumul pieptului tau
Pacadddtele buzelor mele fac ablutiunea lor
Sin tonele de atingeri de catifea in oglinzile carnii mele
Reinnoiesc crinii nasterii mele !

Sarutul latent pe o parte a drumului
Cules de buzele ploii
Astfel, briza dorintelor se raspandeste
Din gurile portocalilor
Tremurand casele calde ale zapezii
In oglinzile pieptului
Si in adancul iubirii
Curcubeele din memoria cerului
Peste un camp de crini
Jucandu-se in imaginatia fluturelui…


Chemarea cafelei vine uda cu spuma amintirilor
Purtand tristetile apei indepartate
Si iubirea se inalta in ploaia goala
Ma vad dizolvand zaharul visului
In sangerarea cuvintelor
Pentru a imblanzi strigatul asteptarilor !

Moartea ma sperie nu ca eveniment , ci ca idée
Respiratiile noastre aluneca in flacara
Albastra a iubirii
Si de partea cuvantului
Marea alearga spre ecoul inimilor noastre
Visul ud de sunetul zorilor
Trece prin suflet spre pieptul stralucitor
Cu roua farmecului etern
Si suieratul luminii nebune..
Astfel, Universul urca scarile nevazutului
La chemarea apei
Si tot ce este intre noi se dizolva
In imaginatia lui Dumnezeu .

Tradus in Romaneste de Haminia Haar
din " The Epic " de Munir Mezyed
11 Iunie 2013 - Romania

UnlikeUnlike · Stop Notifications · Share · Edit · June 13, 2013

The Epic

The Last Dance of the Blue Swan

Munir Mezyed

(Poetry is the way of the spirit towards emancipation and liberation)

O apple of life that has the taste of blood and tears
Arrogant flood of thirst flows from the wounds of soil
Snatching the breaths of the riddle
From the lips of meditation
Piles of grief in my mirror scream:
The shadow is thirsty
And water is wounded and exiled....

O Salt of pain in the bread of dreamy angels
Aphrodite is slain on the Kórach's court
And I steal the sacred fire from the Gods
when I bring it to the intoxicated earth with darkness
Water starts to narrate my story ...

White shadow on the edge of the night rolls down
Towards a light that lifts my cup to its thirsty lips
There is a secretive voice embracing the naked moment
Worried to see the scene….

On the horizon invisible flock of nymphs
Talks about the wandering sea in the sky of my contemplations
It slips into the cup…

Escaping from the blue forest
The God of dreams descends to my memory
He burns the fire of contemplation by the water of talismans
And drenches the water of grief by the fire of charm…!

Thus I behold myself besieged, my love
Between waves of fire and flames of water
And the flower of my breaths which is hung in the breast of the ode / your lips
Wet with words…..!

Ecstasy sets out towards the temples of singing
I see you coming out from the womb of word a blue dream
And when you touch the flower of my words
It blooms ,stops not kissing the fingers of God
Till the rain falls down...

Thus the spirit curves around the naked breast of light
And the columns of imagination burst into flames in the temple of silence
Everything that is unseen turns into a mirror in the divine mirror
Breaking the wings of time
And letting the white shadow to evaporate in the echo of the vision....

Who knows
In which corners of the water
Eternity hides away from the eyes of time...!

The music of the silent dream drips out of the flower of creation
Over the wings of the sunset
The flood passes into the mouth of desire
Thus the earth and the sky collapse in the body of our tale....

The unexpected mist of desire burns off the night
The delirium of silence wakes up from the springs of light
And the waves of dream collide with the weary flocks of
my imagination
Thus the sea loosens its blue tresses on the body of death
the sky becomes lighting lamp with the echo of stars..
And the Sad light between the cold columns of darkness evaporates
Nothing remains from it but one cry telling the tale

O My God
When will the barking of this wet night with insanity abate..?
The tears of words still drip out of the lips of the ode
Not saying a word but silence says a lot....

There is a pavement floating on the surface of divine fragrance
A harbor for the traveling muse to my memory
And I still continue to lift the sea up to the thirsty lips of your voice
Till the end
Nothing is with me but a dream where the sky sleeps in its eyelashes…

From this scattered scarlet fog in the eyes of water
The flocks of light fly towards the sleeping dream in their nests
The waves of darkness, coming from the call of death
Try to penetrate into the horizon of the white vision....

Water, this virgin charm where imagination breaks into pieces
Draws the legends of creation
And drinks the sins of this infinite nihility ...

O Sacred Valley of life that breathes the hymns of the invisible forests
No one sees you but those thirsty trees for singing
And those singing birds in the belly of words
There, you go, embellished with secrets and talismans
To a hanging garden between heaven and earth....

Every dream without sin is tears
Leaking out of the eyes of the word
The vagrant voice still has the obsession of returning to its childhood
Stoning the doors of darkness with the stones of melodies
It sees the flocks of light soaked in the sea of death
Searching for the monument of rain
In the traces of God's fingerprints....

what a delightful rain that kisses with its warm eyes
The cold hand of dream that is hung on the walls of water
And carries the drizzles of voice to the migratory birds
Thus the sea sees me a song flowing
From the mouth of the unseen
Quenching the thirst of spirit....

The murmur of light that shines with prophecy
And wet with the eternal scent of God comes to me
From the breaths of the vagrant word
Intoxicated with the fire of the delicious grief
Carrying the wounds of the daylight
And moans of engulfed evenings with nostalgia
Asking me
Who shelters the droplets of silence ...?
Who empties the basket of memory...?

O light that passes between God and me
The tales of charm still shed the tears of desire in my heart
And my imagination stops not stealing the sacred fire
Till the ode becomes a Heavenly Garden
Bigger than the universe
Deeper than silence
More rebellious than water and imagination
And more delicious than femininity....

A cloud is asleep in the lap of light
Its ray scatters on the intoxicated petals of water
Winter is lost in the emigrant murmur
In the depths of songs which are shrouded in mystery
I behold time withering in mirrors hung by the soul
On the flap of butterfly's wings
And the last night of the sea drowning in the yelling of nectar...

Everything that is invisible, its voice flutters in my memory
And in my imagination, the perfume of the sky bleeds
Over a shadow of mysterious flowers sipping the howling of darkness

The Earth opens its throat by my words
The sacred basil leaves burst out of the rocks of pain
Mezyedistic Odes scented with divine charm
Thus the waves of dream mount up in thirst of soil
And the lotus flower inscribes on the face of the sky
The Secrets of Resurrection.....

O walls of pain in the temple of my longings
Wet songs with love grow on the lips
Sad to leave before we pluck them....

Sorrow opens the windows of memory
To mysterious scent leaking out of the wound of imagination
The poem asks me
Who will teach me how to sip fire from a dewdrop
When nostalgia fills my being …?

Soon it commits its first temptation
Dancing with me between two mirrors
Two shadows
Till the time becomes a woman
Wearing the dresses of the forgotten tale…!

From the notions of sky that is caught
Between the eyelids of imagination
Hymns of perfume pour over the dead body of tales
Lulling the climax rain that tears the shrines of water
The call of light expands in the memory of the trees
And in the dead leaves, the embers of desire grow
Thus the fingers of dream play the tune of fire
On the strings of the night….

Who says that water is without memory
And the suckling light without dream…?!
The sea climbs the ladders of my voice to you
When the shovels of darkness dig the sky of words

What a thrill that sips the honey of silent charm
When silence bleeds the thirst of talking…!
O sunset, do not grieve..!
The buds of light are still stronger than the madness of nihility
The fruits of the vision ripen under the veil of flame
And the shores of oblivion wear the secrets of the dazzling lanterns…

O naked soul for the sweetness of contemplation
Do not you know that my voice passes on the top of the angel’s houses
To the invisible mirror…?!
Thus I see the mouths of stars fraught with delirium of fire
Zoroaster implanting the candles of inspiration in my way
And Minerva dancing naked in the fountain of pure charm/ my ode
Declaring her repentance…

O Temple of fiery clay
O delicious body of water
In my heart a magical bird loves to sing
On the wet twigs of eternity with the dew of the unseen
Teaching me to fly in the shivering of the spirit…

O Habibti
You are the torch of passion in the temple of the eternal light
This crimson horizon where the odes tread on
Breathes the scent of your waiting
Thus night dissolves in the blue dusk by the mist of my shadow
The commandments of Buddha appear visible in my lost tablets
And the drunken boat of Rimbaud floats in my thoughts

Poetry has the aroma of the sacred imagination
The taste of the unseen
The color of eternity that is emigrating to you…!

In the delirium of the fatal seduction
Salome dances
And the prophet with his broken wing
Sits tired in the tears of the poor
Looking at the muse whom beheaded
By the language of the slaves....

All I fear in the temples of night
Is the suicide of the moon on the breast of Herodias
And stars being hanged in the lust of Herod....
I see God Ēl sad, raising his voice and crying : Baal died
The sky was His dream before its birth

Trees no longer bear fruit in their places
And the dead leave their graves to the sea
Over these peaks
Light gathers the weeping of the grass in its basket
Conversing with God by the autumn leaves..

In the heart of the storm
The sun rows towards my voice with torn sails
And in this deep silence that floats on the body of dream
Words look at the mirror of my imagination
Wearing the greenery of the snow
And the whiteness of desire ...

Between the white and blue water
The blind crows of wailing rape the femininity of lilies
In the temples of the word
And the flesh of the sky is cooked to satisfy
The legends of the darkness...

The breaths of your grief shake the hidden heaven
In the eyes of God
The drops of time which are full of imagination leak out
Into the wounded lips of water...

Everything comes to bud silently in my prayers
The blue swans dance their last dance
In the memory of seasons
The angels come from the abandoned houses of Baal
Covered with the rainbows.....

Flock of pigeons in dead horizon
Tries to explain the secret behind the shattering of the wave’s head
The moon appears out of its tomb saying:
It is my head before my birth…
Suddenly the sea yells very loudly:
Ah..! It is the night that rains its emptiness in my throat

On the Sidrat al-Muntahā
The ode is listening
Baffled, shaking her head
She ascends to the sky of imagination
Saying: Oh poet, you are sad and strange …!
How could you understand the game of creation
While you are water drop in a deep dark sea ....?!

I walk on the road of no return towards the first word
Searching for the secret behind the thirst of the sea
And the hunger of the sky
And in the sacred sanctuary of love
I dream of seeing God…!

Sorrows are crystalline trees growing in the memory of autumn
Their fruits are Legends renewing the Psalms of life
Due to my extreme amazement
I see myself kissing the lips of unseen
Thus the convoys of water loom on the horizon of the kiss …

Oh sweet lips that see beyond the imagination of the unseen
How do I explain about shortening the distance between man and God...?
How could I explain I am another Christ who is crucified in the ode/ your lips..?

Long and chilly winter
And the sorrows of light are endless
Will another spring be begotten from my burning..?

The whirlwinds of desire strike the shore of the sleeping dream
In the imagination of silence
And the perfume of the odes searches for the traces of embroidered kisses
On the linen of inspiration...
Thus the boats of memories fly with the wings of contemplation
Towards the sources of light
Penetrating the spirit wall that separates between extinction and eternity
I behold you in the garden of rain a scarlet sky glittering with legends
Where the odes and the eternal fire of passion dance…

There is a nymph in the corridors of the unseen waiting for me
Planting in the soil of my voice
A portrait of butterfly wallowing with the light of talismans in the foam of passion
Portrait of the women of chaos pouring the insanity of femininity
Over the Moon flower
Portrait of thunders roaring with thirst for the milk of words..

Death does not know me!
I am God’s spoiled child
He teaches me the sayings of water and fire
The language of birds and the singing of trees

With the perfume of your breast, the sins of my lips perform their ablution
And the tones of your velvet fingertips in the mirrors of my flesh
Renew the lilies of my birth….!

Dormant kiss is on the side of the road
Picked up by the lips of the rain
Thus the breezes of desire blow out of the mouths of orange trees
Shaking the warm houses of snow in the mirrors of the breast
And in the side of love
The rainbows fall from the memory of the sky
Over a field of lilies playing in the imagination of butterfly…

The call of coffee comes wet with foam memories
Carrying the sorrows of distant water
And love soars in the rain naked
I see myself dissolving the sugar of dream in the bleeding of words
In order to tame the neigh of waiting ….!

Death frightens me not as an event but as an idea
Our breaths slip into the blue flame of love
And by the side of the word
The sea runs towards the echo of our hearts...
The dream which is wet with the sound of dawn
Passes through the soul to your glittering breast
With the dew of the eternal charm
Carrying the hissing of the mad light
Thus the universe ascends the ladders of the unseen
To the call of water
And everything that between us dissolves in the imagination of God...

It is translated into Romanian by Haminia Haar. I will publish a book
in English, Arabic and Romanian soon. EPIC in three languages.

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