Shyly
A cloud passes by.
I, like a pillar of light, stand
Begging…
for the flow of light
                        on my body

It happens
That it responds
And I pull the thread
Like a cat playing with
A ball of wool.
There are many knots to the thread
And I have no patience for spinning

Like the sea
I throw myself down on the blank space
How many ebbs and flows
Will it take me
To deflower the shell?

I come with doubting steps
So that certainty does not assassinate me.
I come as the shivers
As delirium.
Will the wind
Open its arms
At my arrival?
Or will the date
Be forever cancelled
                       Like my dreams?

No date for earthquakes
Say the passers-by
As each night they
Prepare
A hideout for the poem

No date
For a confirmed death

But
I dream of prophecy
At the break of each dawn
And slip
Into the shade of mirrors
Like a ray
That restores yesterday’s virginity

I have no yesterday
Nor am I concerned by tomorrow
In the present am I
Present
To the last breath.
Now is the time,
As the hours gather up their breath,
To sip dew
Before the call to prayer.

Stop
Praying
And let the colors of time
On the back of your hand
Stain
The lines of loss
On the palm of mine

I die for a line
That is lost
Between forking paths

Stoop down
Like a tender breast
For the lips of the eternal child
Are cracked
From excessive questioning
And because you will not…
And because I will not…
Let us avoid asking: why?

Stoop down
And break the clay
Earth
Flows
Like a bunch of letters
Between my hands.
And I will cry from joy
At the smell of earth

O you
My playful icon
My fate both high up
And down
Within my own hand
Ready am I for loss
So, endow me
With rituals
Worthy of hell

Translation: Norddine Zouitni

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