Translation of one of my Arabic poems
The String's Moan
By Abdellatif Rhesri
Stars are moaning
Scattering the beads of the poem's chaplet
Screeching at the earshot of the night :
This evening, germs are infesting the inside of the moon
The bells of darkness are chiming
Tolled by the hand of danger
The river is lying awake in the bosom of quietude
Waiting for the appearance of the hazel eyes
And the lush lily there is longing for something
And watching the tender shaking of the trees
Why are the light sails sinking ?
Why does not the dew scarf cover the fruits' heads ?
Why are the lanterns lurking in the shade ?
Why has the dove coo abated ?
And the canoe of this spring, why is it departing in sight ?
And the bunches of this sunset, why are they breaking down,
Falling over the mounts surrounding the town,
Over the moan of the string ?
Yet, poetry is defending the flow of the flood,
Tha plain's gasp,
The hills' confession thet falls down in abundance
And the flies of groaning are humming
Addressing the black colour on the cheeks of bees :
Get going so that the colour of flowers may take your place !
Morocco
8/6/2009
Poetry by Abdellatif Rhesri
Read 285 times
Written on 2009-06-24 at 23:12
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The String's Moan
The String's Moan
By Abdellatif Rhesri
Stars are moaning
Scattering the beads of the poem's chaplet
Screeching at the earshot of the night :
This evening, germs are infesting the inside of the moon
The bells of darkness are chiming
Tolled by the hand of danger
The river is lying awake in the bosom of quietude
Waiting for the appearance of the hazel eyes
And the lush lily there is longing for something
And watching the tender shaking of the trees
Why are the light sails sinking ?
Why does not the dew scarf cover the fruits' heads ?
Why are the lanterns lurking in the shade ?
Why has the dove coo abated ?
And the canoe of this spring, why is it departing in sight ?
And the bunches of this sunset, why are they breaking down,
Falling over the mounts surrounding the town,
Over the moan of the string ?
Yet, poetry is defending the flow of the flood,
Tha plain's gasp,
The hills' confession thet falls down in abundance
And the flies of groaning are humming
Addressing the black colour on the cheeks of bees :
Get going so that the colour of flowers may take your place !
Morocco
8/6/2009
Poetry by Abdellatif Rhesri
Read 285 times
Written on 2009-06-24 at 23:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
