{"id":59299,"date":"2021-09-05T10:58:19","date_gmt":"2021-09-05T10:58:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.worldofculture2020.com\/?p=59299"},"modified":"2021-09-05T10:58:19","modified_gmt":"2021-09-05T10:58:19","slug":"your-soul-two-and-a-half-meters","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldofculture2020.com\/?p=59299","title":{"rendered":"Your soul, two and a half meters"},"content":{"rendered":"
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By Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia<\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n
Translation from Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine<\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/div>\n
Herbert Gustave Schmalz<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Are you really going to flee with the conductor of the orchestra, laden with baskets of cocoa?<\/div>\n
– Will you carry the red tux that killed so many thieves?<\/div>\n
– Your hat staring at the sleeping passersby.<\/div>\n
– Your soul, which is two and a half meters.<\/div>\n
– Your Parisian dress filled with the perfume of fire.<\/div>\n
– Your daily accessories and orange of omission.<\/div>\n
– Your laughter drenched in tears and prayers.<\/div>\n
– Your voice filled with strawberries.<\/div>\n
– What is the fate of the deer you forgot in your last Dadaist text?<\/div>\n
And the arctic fox that you fed your hot breasts?<\/div>\n
– Are you really going to Samarkand?<\/div>\n
Riding the sea and wipe the tears of the drowned.<\/div>\n
followed by a persecuted family of dolphins<\/div>\n
to protect your boat from delirium.<\/div>\n
to refine the nature of waves in the darkness.<\/div>\n
– The important thing:<\/div>\n
I will shoot with live fire at the giant farewell elephants.<\/div>\n
I will take out my liver and feed the eagle of madness.<\/div>\n
I will take off my glasses and throw my swollen eyes out of the<\/div>\n
plane window.<\/div>\n
– Did you forget how many sweet hour rabbits we have eaten.<\/div>\n
– On the bus that eats contrasts like a lion in the savannah.<\/div>\n
In gardens you think like the Stoics.<\/div>\n
In the jungle ruled by the leopard of nostalgia.<\/div>\n
– Your heart was a panicked fish.<\/div>\n
and my chest is an aquarium of glass and reeds.<\/div>\n
– Your obsessions are constantly raining.<\/div>\n
– My silence speaks eloquently,<\/div>\n
plotting a epistemic revolution.<\/div>\n
– A policeman is chasing us on an ostrich back<\/div>\n
opening successive showers on our memories, packed with the<\/div>\n
rhythm of narrative story.<\/div>\n
– Taliban fighters chase us with burning glass.<\/div>\n
– Grave diggers chase us with plastic coffins.<\/div>\n
– The polytheists of Quraish with mortar shells.<\/div>\n
We were hiding in the Titanic.<\/div>\n
In winter<\/div>\n
– We go to church on tiptoes.<\/div>\n
Jesus baptizes us with transparent threads of light,<\/div>\n
giving us a basket of fresh sardines<\/div>\n
and he keeps luring us with his blue eyes to the bed of the Ursa Major.<\/div>\n
While our fragile prayers flounder in the court.<\/div>\n
– Are you really going to flee like a queen after the fall of the throne?<\/div>\n
Chew my heart and throw it to monsters?<\/div>\n
leaving a huge number of bulls regurgitating my arteries in the<\/div>\n
Stable?<\/div>\n
– Winter is coming, my love<\/div>\n
like a Circassian fighter.<\/div>\n
– Theatre actors were shot dead.<\/div>\n
– Our dog spreads its arms out over the text threshold.<\/div>\n
guards my imagination from thieves and pirates.<\/div>\n
I’m so angry my love<\/div>\n
(I will cut off my testicles and throw them in the toilet.)<\/div>\n
– I’m going to rip off the butt of the waitress.<\/div>\n
Wine has the taste of your watchful breasts.<\/div>\n
I know it will be a very harsh winter,<\/div>\n
full of cough, knives and feces.<\/div>\n
– I’ll cry alone<\/div>\n
Like a Tibetan monk in a brothel.<\/div>\n
The ones I love have gone into oblivion.<\/div>\n
– The captains smash the clouds.<\/div>\n
and passersby bark furiously.<\/div>\n
– I will drive solitude out of the bedroom like a punk.<\/div>\n
– I will chase you, my love<\/div>\n
like a hungry leopard.<\/div>\n
– I will kill the conductor with an axe.<\/div>\n
– The weather is totally unfavorable.<\/div>\n
– Hulagu Khan on the roof of the house.<\/div>\n
– Negroes are beating drums around.<\/div>\n
And by street warfare I’m determined<\/div>\n
to take back your crown, queen<\/div>\n
and to strangle the orchestra conductor with my imaginary nails.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n