Waiting for me in a heavenly swing
By Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia
From Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine
I know many people in distant cities.
They sleep suspended in the air
Like piercing stars and in daytime they evaporate
I visit them in my sleep with a super-balloon.
I take a statue who lost his hand
By a crocodile bite.
An Alchemist cooks glyphs and signs
In a gelatinous utensil
A laughing horse I gift to a widow
Waiting for me in a heavenly swing
We exchange luxury books and gifts
We do not land to the ground and over our heads tweet
Birds from enchanted planets.
///
His hands are cut off.
A pigeon fed him with its beautiful beak
Letting him listen to a musical interval.
When he sleeps, she carries him under her wings
To an exciting island
Where thick trees longing
To the rhythm of his joints.
///
I often hear crackles in my room.
A mummy shivering of cold
Disappears under my bed
– Do not take pity on the rain rhythm
he’s not Tutankhamun
Chasing you on a Circassian horse…
Rain barks continuously all night.
///
What is the use of these abundant planets?
And these blind holes?
That threatens a bird that thinks about the essence death is with a shell?
What is the use of these superimposed galaxies?
These absurd forts,
Filled with nothing?
What is the secret of crossing millions of years
on the surface of the ground?
///
in prison
nobody visited me but a fish
She was swimming in the jailer’s eyes.
///
I write to have a ship loaded with mail of the shipwrecked and the blind visit me.
I write because my texts grant me very rare fruits…
I am writing to domesticate the abyss…
And to trim the nails of impossible.
