TRANSLATION: NEINA AL-SARTAWI
I watch it, it doesn’t rain
I come taken, with what
I carry from certainty
then after the disappointment
except the dream.
on the verge of a tale
seagull fell, in
the water.
boiling the messages
the end invisibility
palm trees, are falling
in the valley of the flutes
were broken our lips on
the sight of her gaze.
gather firewood
bleeding sun
selled the horizon
at auction.
lump from barking
the happiness
divides the laughter itself
on itself
who closes the door of, a-ha
Between me and autumn are
living longings,
Rainy turquoise,
a pain that winter struggles to bear.
Every cloud, even on the verge of death,
will not rain like the torrents of my pain.
Oh, my bewilderment when it blooms
restlessness and lack of means,
The question will keep swaying in a storm
between a heart and a way out.
Muhammed Gaddafi Massoud is a poet and writer from Gharyan City, Libya.
