Time Runs, Time Drowns


Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen




Time runs, runs

As a thief hunted by a policeman

Drawing his big gun.

Time drowns

As a child breathing his last breaths

In front of us; the poor who have been created

Without hands and feet.


Time is an old man

As good as his white beard.

But when I wanted to bid him farewell

I was shocked by his room

Full of the remains of henna

Full of usurers, hangmen, and harlots

Together with their giggles, trifles and heavy breaths.


Time is my letters and dots

Surrounding me with clock’s hands.

Time is my hours that search

In vain for two good arms,

Two lips compact with warmth and blossoms.


Time is an urn in which delight

Was poured,

Then set at my heart’s shelf.

But the black cats broke the urn.

I did not go out to drive them off

Because my heart died of bleeding,

Died of delight.


Time is a woman who stripteases

In front of  the dogs with high backs,

Strong and delightful as their lifted tails.


Time is a mother who dropped

Her child from  the iron bridge

In fear of hunger.

Thus her infant cried on his drowning brother

For full forty years.


Time is a myth that we try to draw

And modify by false colors

And stick our naive poems

On its ruined wall.


Time is my friends who died

Without reason,

Except that they puzzled a little

In front of  the ghost of love

Or the ghost of death.


Time is a candle that does not give up

Spreading darkness.

And days that are seized and charged of striptease

In the markets.


Time is a lute, a tambourine, and a pipe

Drowning in the warmth of your song.

That hunts me

From one street to another,

From one house to another.


Time is unbearable noise

And infinite silly things

And clack that deafens the ears.


Time is a bullet.

You must quietly stand before its course

So that it will get your good heart!



( T p )

   Poems   Pictures  News    Address   Home    English  Connect