Poetry and I

Every sin that I was not a stone
       and if they, sons of worldly matters [are] for me insomnia
And if for me there is a benefit of letters armed
       its style whenever the way/route is distant for me
And for me poetry is a valise I continued to carry. 
       In which is some earth, the taste of the earth and fragrance
And in it clusters of branches of petulance
       In it the palm branches with their bunches of dates
She painted all the tales of love in my language
       Her colours are the spectrum: both grape and twilight
And I said: Bring of the strings the most beautiful
       To know how the universe melody proceeds
To play the melody sounded soporifically
       To do justice to the pen bereft of the one who adored
Worldly affairs are a guide of the letters/characters very grave
       Feather and ink drained concern
Feather and ink drained concern
       Longing lovers read out and burn

Share this poem