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الاثنين، 12 يوليو 2021

لا شيء


To appear with such strength, with such secrecy, and yet wonder about you, Nothing can save you from yourself, leaving you bewildered and lost, And you, with the certainty of collapse, clutch your chest, So that the wreckage may stand upon its legs, Oh, you, torn apart by the ends of the day, Neither presence brings you back nor absence bids you farewell. You are there, I see you in all your cruelty, Oh, this bewilderment leaping in your eyes, and I can barely understand you. In which direction can I find you? You say nothing, nor do you wander into the distant horizon. If you saw me, I would diminish, like the melting of my voicestrings in a feeble sigh. If you could read me, you would paint a mirage-like picture with your secret ink dissolved in salt. The days pass and the paths revolve around your eyes. Have you passed me by like gazelles over the desolate valleys of the wilderness? Your night, resembling the savanna, says to the sunrise, Bring me from asceticism and stand me upon a towering rock. And call to me with a cry, awakening the sky with a roar that tears open the heart of its blueness. Then calm down, sigh, take me in your hands, and give me to the wind, and tell it as you told your beloved: Here, death is nothing, and there, there is nothing but death. Aqel Al-Ayyash 12/7/2021
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