{"id":61216,"date":"2021-09-29T05:51:14","date_gmt":"2021-09-29T05:51:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.worldofculture2020.com\/?p=61216"},"modified":"2021-09-29T05:51:14","modified_gmt":"2021-09-29T05:51:14","slug":"the-ghost-raining-in-the-bus-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldofculture2020.com\/?p=61216","title":{"rendered":"The ghost raining in the bus"},"content":{"rendered":"
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From Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine<\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n
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By Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia<\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I am no longer visible.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I am no longer a righteous child of the Law of gravitation<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Nor a good friend of pub-goers<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Nor the one called upon in the amazing gardens.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I am no longer anything in the heavenly kingdom<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Whenever I see you laughing on the bus<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Or pulling two meters of pure sleep from the garden of your head,<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I call you like a dying cloud on the edge of your shoulders.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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As long as you don’t hear the rain in my words,<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I cry so long…<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I stare at the details of your face,<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I say: Your winged eyes may hear me<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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May your imagination full of the eyes of philosophers see me.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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May your heart cry out with Galilean certainty.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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There he is, in nowhere.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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You get off the bus<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Like a prayer from a church window<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I follow you<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Your shoe heel showers me with music.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Your Parisian perfumes attracts me<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Your embroidered hat with silver and tears.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Your shadow that goes into a fatal deficiency.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Wagons pass laden with the scent of the earth.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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The Smell of Sleeping Ancestors in the Table of Elements.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Cyclists crossing the Nostalgia Bridge.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Mom looks out from the narrow balcony<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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She is calling my name, that disappeared by surprise from the world.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Wolves that you have raised, in the winter of last year, ass through the heights of my texts.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I align you and release a flood of words<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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And when you don’t care about my broken glassy voice,<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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I cry so long…<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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On the side of nothing.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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And when you reach your home, to which I made pilgrimage repeatedly<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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You sweetly bring in the butterflies of the fields<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Then, I fully realized that I had been dead a little over a month ago.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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A train loaded with prisoners hit me<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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In a very dangerous place.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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But I\u2019m still tracking you like a flying saucer.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n