The nightmares of a creature from fire and ashes
Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia
From Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine
Sometimes, a tree knocks at my door
looks so tired
Covered with blue bruises
A woodcutter pursued her with a sectarian ax…
I Sit her on the sofa
Like a persecuted Kurdish sister
Waiting for the coming of the morning
To establish a homeland for her broken branches
To be a paradise for all the birds of the whole world.
///
Sometimes I doubt the validity of the concept of spirit
I say the body is the soul affected by the rhythm of blood
It does not come down from the highest place
And doesn’t escalate throughout erasure to cap limit
It fades away as the annihilation of its physical source
Does not remain in the family album
Unless the brightness of an original currency
And tears of diamonds on the edge of the vase.
///
Are you not tired, O Lord, of eternal awakening?
Staring at the world’s corporations is so costly.
And the wolves of your rotten planet howl in the heaps.
Your sun reaped this inhabited year with the bodies of the expellees.
Traitorous are your seas,
They are cannibals…
Your scripture is neglected on the shelves
And your poet is imprisoned in the nihilistic margin.
Move, Lord, and say your poetic text
Don’t throw us at the edge of the volcano.
///
Woman is a blind river
And her cheetahs outlive of the remnants of my shoulder.
Our House is a sad story that is moving in decline.
My branches are in the diaspora.
And the enemy is licking my kite’s milk.
My dead are many and my lamps are blind.
Nobody is on the extinguished balcony
But the Little Owl Orchestra.
///
Existence is a big lie
Earth is a very bad idea
The actors died on the flank of mountain
They were killed by a fever strike
In the middle of the show.
The sleepyheads are many
The Lord created the earth
ـــــ His nihilistic television ـــــــ
To chase the bats of his loneliness
With absurd scenes
And grinds his molars due to the darkness of horror movies.
