المائلين الى الظل
الحاملين من كل حزن رديف
ماذا لو,سال البكاء من التخوم الى التخوم ,
ماذا لو كانت يداك , مجاديف ذوات عزوم,
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لم ينجو من البلل , يصارع الغرق , لم يطرق بابه احد , في الخارج
ترك يده ورحل.
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احدهم ,سقطت اصابعه وهو يعد ليال الشتاء ,اما انا , نسيت اصابعي مع البرد.
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النجوم غارقه ,في الليل الموحش, الصمت وحيد ,يتدحرج في شوارع الضاحيه .
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للهدوء نوتات,انتعلت الرصيف , زَهِدَ في صدري
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هذا طريقك,لقد اتيت , فأنا اذا ًبخير,لا احتاج الا ان تقول شيئا ,لكن هذه الشخوص خرساء
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حفنة من البرد
وبيدر من الهدوء
اشياء تتأجج
وتندس في المحاني جذوه
قبس لمن اراد ان يصطلي
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الذكريات التي لا تشيخ
مثل نبع ماء يجري في ساقيه
لاهو ينقطع ولا يستحيل نهر
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غفى
واستيقظ ذاك الغريب
ماقال شيئا , لكننا رأيناه يهيم على وجهه
كلما اعتلى منيفة ناداه في النواحي تل
ليس بمجنون ولا من هذا القبيل
قالوا قد قد فكره , ربما في صدره رصاصه
لو انه دس حنينه في جيبه المثقوب
نبت على اثره البكاء
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What if, plant your steps the songs of passers-by on the sidewalk,
Those who tend to shade
Bearers of every grief reserve
What if, crying flowed from border to border,
What if your hands were bent oars,
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He did not survive the wetness, he struggled with drowning, no one knocked on his door, outside
He left his hand and left.
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One of them, his fingers fell while counting the winter nights, but I forgot my fingers with the cold.
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The stars are sunken, in the lonely night, the silence is lonely, rolling in the suburban streets.
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For calm notes, I climbed the pavement, asceticism in my chest
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This is your way, I came, so I'm fine, I only need you to say something, but these characters are mute
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bunch of cold
And a wave of calm
Things flare up
And inserted in the stump
Plug for those who wanted
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Memories that never get old
Like a spring of water running through his legs
It is not interrupted nor is it impossible for a river
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nod
And the stranger woke up
He said nothing, but we saw him wander
Whenever climbed, he called him in the hill regions
Not crazy nor like that
They said he had thought of it, perhaps a bullet in his chest
If he tucked his nostalgia in his pocket pierced
Crying resulted
-, plant your steps the songs of passers-by on the sidewalk,
Those who tend to shade
Bearers of every grief reserve
What if, crying flowed from border to border,
What if your hands were bent oars,
-
He did not survive the wetness, he struggled with drowning, no one knocked on his door, outside
He left his hand and left.
-
One of them, his fingers fell while counting the winter nights, but I forgot my fingers with the cold.
-
The stars are sunken, in the lonely night, the silence is lonely, rolling in the suburban streets.
-
For calm notes, I climbed the pavement, asceticism in my chest
-
This is your way, I came, so I'm fine, I only need you to say something, but these characters are mute
-
bunch of cold
And a wave of calm
Things flare up
And inserted in the stump
Plug for those who wanted
-
Memories that never get old
Like a spring of water running through his legs
It is not interrupted nor is it impossible for a river
-
nod
And the stranger woke up
He said nothing, but we saw him wander
Whenever climbed, he called him in the hill regions
Not crazy nor like that
They said he had thought of it, perhaps a bullet in his chest
If he tucked his nostalgia in his pocket pierced
Crying resulted
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