about the beauty and power of poets' words


A Word






When a word sprouts
In my paper,
Death breathes
Inside me,
Its fingertips catches
A piece of love
***
A smile
Blossoms on my lips,
When I see my word
Over its white stage,
Dancing with the stars
On the rhythm of its
Anklets
***
When the wings
Of my word flap,
My blood rises,
Opening its arms
For birds
To fly
***
I smell in my
Dew wrapped word,
A virgin love story
Of teenagers,
Too shy to reveal
Their love
To each other
***
I see in the sweat
Raining from the forehead
Of my word,
The beautiful face
Of my grand mother,
Baking over her sheet iron,
My loaf of bread,
Embroidered with
The grains
Of terebinth
***
The word asks me
Whether it is attractive,
It bathed with joy
If I replied:
The smooth terrains
Of your body
Fascinate me
***
The finest
Of my word,
If it would be
Aimed by a
Freedom fighter
Against the occupation
To explode
A Merkava tank


Habib Fares
--------------------
Written in Arabic in Sydney,2006. Translated by the poet.
--------------------

P.S. As poems loose alot of their essence and technique, when translated to other languages - particularly rhyme and rhythm - members with English as their first language are welcome to edit or paraphrase any of my poems. Names of editors will be acknowledged where ever the edited poem published. With many thanks.

Habib Fares







Poetry by Habib Fares
Read 305 times
Written on 2007-04-22 at 15:13

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Amanda K
Being an Arab makes me aware that the test loses some quality as translated but it's a very good translation.thanks 4 putting your effort to disaply it.

salaam
2007-04-22