{"id":78479,"date":"2022-06-03T17:08:43","date_gmt":"2022-06-03T17:08:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.worldofculture2020.com\/?p=78479"},"modified":"2022-06-03T17:09:18","modified_gmt":"2022-06-03T17:09:18","slug":"abyss-milk-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldofculture2020.com\/?p=78479","title":{"rendered":"Abyss milk"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Fathi Muhadub | Tunisia<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
\nFrom Arabic Dr. Yousef Hanna | Palestine<\/strong><\/span>
\nBefore I nurse the abyss<\/span>
\nAnd fill my mortar with tears of widows<\/span>
\nYou let your branches think<\/span>
\nYour papers are scrambling like obsessions<\/span>
\nNext year rain will come<\/span>
\nFull of women and gold<\/span>
\nThe boats will be ready<\/span>
\nThe light will be fifty cubits long<\/span>
\nAnd the balcony filled with wheat of thinking<\/span>
\nI let the butterfly shriek<\/span>
\nHer milk was as warm as light cubes<\/span>
\nYour predatory texts attack the rooster of imagination<\/span>
\nThe wolf chews the farmer’s hat<\/span>
\nAnd my brother washes his coffin with masturbation fluid<\/span>
\nHe rubs his critical hours in the brothel<\/span>
\nMy shoulders of straw and gossip<\/span>
\nThe body of red marble<\/span>
\nIn August the she-wolf of metaphysics goes crazy<\/span>
\nI divorce heaven and marry earth<\/span>
\nGabriel applauds me with two bronze wings<\/span>
\nMy dose of Oxygen is not enough<\/span>
\nTo awaken the forgetfulness fish<\/span>
\nin August<\/span>
\nYou wear God’s face<\/span>
\nHeaven rests on your bed<\/span>
\nStudded with leopards and music<\/span>
\nNarcissus falls into the lake<\/span>
\nI fall to the bottom of the mirror<\/span>
\nBahloul ^<\/span><\/strong> falls into the temptation<\/span>
\nYour shadow is a sleeping fox under the acacia tree<\/span>
\nIn August, the almonds of the carriages of the dead ripen<\/span>
\nWaiting for my sad tree to drain the tears of the family<\/span>
\nI am waiting for scuttles of tremendous eyes<\/span>
\nThe blind fill the plot<\/span>
\nI’m wait for nothing<\/span>
\nWaiting for the ostrich mail of obsessions<\/span>
\nFor the tears of the Circassian knight’s pistol<\/span>
\nIn August, Descartes descends<\/span>
\nfrom my head balcony<\/span>
\nThe cogito is his only horse<\/span>
\nAnd the words his thick forest.<\/span>
\nOur house is ashes, and our prayers are dead birds<\/span>
\nAnd if it wasn’t for the wine of your breasts, the musician would have committed suicide<\/span>
\nIn the casino<\/span><\/p>\n

^<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Bahloul: was the common name of W\u0101hab ibn Amr, born in Kufa\/Iraq in 807 AD, he was a wise poet, and he was perfect in the arts of governance, knowledge and literature in the time of Harun al-Rashid. He pretended to be insane in order to get rid of the Abbasid caliphs following him because of his severe asceticism. Behave like madmen and dervishes.<\/span><\/p>\n