Translated by kamal Boullata
( 1 )
Silently
She lived
Silently
She died
useless cunt
they said, after they knew
I
fell to my knees
before her corpse
Stripped her
of the shroud
with my nails
wrote on her tombstone
Something
( 2 )
He put on his shirt, carried his umbrella
Uttered no word
Neither did 1.
After he left
I stood in front of the mirror
Slit open my tongue
to see if any words were caught there
Alas
I only saw the muscles and the veins.
I mended the tongue
Burst out laughing
- laughter is not a word Then I smashed the mirror.
Since then
I have been breaking mirrors In vain
Searching for one
That would reflect
No more; a mirror
That would break me.
( 3 )
It troubles me
that water is colorless
air is tasteless
the hymen.
is without tears.
The tenderness of thorns
their perpetual renewal
Wounds me:
The neighing of extinct beasts
in my blood
The scream of demons
dead under the trees
of remote shores.
I lay my rough palms
over a man's foot
a passing stranger
And bless my children
coming forth with the wind
Penetrating through time.
( 4 )
The turtle lifting its firm head
spat. The man
as a turtle: an imperfect
definition,
And I laugh
exhaling smoke and beasts.
Because
am abolished
before the chasms
of desire,
I joke
I yawn before the mirrors.
Because I want to be
More challenging
more penetrating than X-ray
More slippery
than
hot mercury:
I dissolve.
( 5 )
A wing carried me
A claw broke me
A beak pecked me.
Eyes closed for me
denude me
But ultra-violet rays of a heart
will not decompose me.
I am a storm in motion
and spring in death.
Like ore and dust
I penetrate the heat
and yet
My flesh is a curse
A curse that reduces
to glue
and ash.
( 6 )
Out of my darkness
I gathered blossoms of starlight
Arranged them
in his shoe
He said:
I am undeserving
He had been overcome by defeat
Burning biting
his regrets.
I went back to my room
Seeing death in every crevice
I lay in the rain rising
from the ground;
Stretched my feet
Plunged my teeth,
in the torn dream,
Waited
for the explosion of the crack:
The Second Coming
( 7 )
Ever in consciousness
I am and am not
not always, in the dream
I either am or am
not.
Behind curtains
I see him.
There, waiting
for the piece of bread
I own
but refuse to give
him.
Each one of us
standing on a bank.
Some sleeping god seeking revenge
stirred up
carried me over
absent waves
and like a fish
placed me in his mouth.
( 8 )
I arched my body
Like a porcupine before the barking of a dog
The silk of migrating wings
stroke my curves
transcend the touch of skin
piercing the pores
I thought
Tomorrow I become
A bird
Tomorrow
and my metamorphosis
was here.
I saw myself behind
hopped forward
like a frog, kept hopping all night long
As I, at last,
was glued to the ground
I wondered what happened to
my wings
tomorrow
I will fix them
I thought
and fell asleep.
In my dream
I saw myself
a porcupine
a frog
a roach.
He was a bird without wings.
( 9 )
Before the amputation
of the bewitched limb
I shall call the woman
an ant
as man
was called
a tortoise.
However vast
the difference may be
It has been accepted
for both have been watching each other
as untamed tempests.
Today
Opening my eyes
I am thunderstruck.
After all this time
After all time
Everything is white
Entirely white
even my papers.
( 10 )
out of the darkest nadir
where I was ruthlessly crushed
I screamed,
Co... Leave me alone!
He was beyond
a wall hearing me
he advanced penetrating
through stone.
He held my hand;
led me without me
seeing him. outside the walls
together we were. Suddenly
he disappeared.
Then
and there
and for the first time,
I saw him.
This time, I called
- Come Back
He kept going
didn't even turn.
Left alone outside
the wall
I leaned over stones
for protection.
( 11 )
I searched for the wordless
in your presence
found it
but found
no name for it.
I pretended your absence
in order
to find its name.
The wind's name is wind
love's name is love
my name is me
this feeling had substance
but...
One night I got him drunk
searched his pockets
found a piece of paper. To read it turned on the light it burned.
( 12 )
They will say I imitate the poets
As a matter of fact, nothing of the sort,
no preconceived intentions.
For I have read books that remained closed
I have slept through daylight hours
in reception halls.
I scribbled stuff with the mere tip of a pencil
Their judgment was passed
It erased everything
To rectify it
They later said,
She imitated
No one
She did not write
At all.