We will be crowned with a void that does not wear out
By Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia
Translation from Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine
اللوحة للفنانة الأمريكية: كارين نولز
Why do dead fish fall from your mouth?
And through your eyes we saw sleepovers last night.
Where the clothes of the soul hang on the rope of obsessions.
We will save the day from the clutches of the Tatars
We will save the thinking goose from the wolf of insanity
We will save your mirror from the magpie rattle
Do not hide the poet’s moon in the stable
The sun will rise from the clown hat
And whose tears are golden
They will rescue the drowned
And in the church there are boats full of wheat and wine
That Jesus did not show for us last week
We buried our mother down the well
Whereas a black eagle and medieval mourners are following us
Your day is blind, kicked by the bus driver
I heard your hand crying in solitude
Your hand is soft rain and music of rice
We heard your broken bells in the middle of sleep
My sweet almond tree
The Noosed will give you a glass of champagne
Do not lead the crow to the worms of cognitive apprehension
We’ll save the light from the gallows
The rose from the scent of witches
We’ll kick the thieves out of the incited forest of your head
O shepherd, save the sheep of my imagination from wolves
Perhaps the wind is worthy of wisdom and a crown
Your shadow may attack the turtles of doubt
Maybe your brother will wake up with his sad rain
Philosophers will save him at the end of the evening
By ropes of long questions.
We said: Guns are black women
The blind cut off their fingers in the hospital
The waiter is a sick tree
And the participants are very savage
I’ll fight them and their ghosts at the memorial party.
I filled the proofs with the waters of fantasy
I am celibate and nature is so
We have to get married and cross the bridge
Doesn’t matter if the world is full of spies and bulls
I told the Pope at my wedding ceremony: Be a tree.
And the cross supported me at the bottom of the river
Horses drag your tomb in the air
Your body is a village crowded with ancestors
O you who pass by a sword of dust,
We will breastfeed the milk of eternity and be fraternal
We will be crowned with a void that does not wear out.
