An Attempt at Remembrance

 

 

Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen

 

 

 

 

1

Here I am!

I have come back to your remembrance,

Come back like a beaten army

So, do not try with me your attempt

To count the wounded and missing.

2

Letter, your dot was a winter's fire

And smoke of a happy cigarette.

Your dot was the suns caught in the hand,

An ambiguous summer full of kisses

And a sudden entrance to the happy nothingness.

3

After your parting,

My death began as a mythical festival.

When I asked about its name,

I was boxed on my mouth

Until my blood flowed.

 4

Here I am!

I have come back to you

Like an addict who decided

For the thousandth time

To give up drink

And managed so every time!

5

After you was my mirror

That smiled to my smile

And got excited at my coming,

You became my absurdity

That seized me wherever it saw me

Or whenever it remembered one letter

Of my broken letters.

6

I do not conceal this secret from you;

After you left,

I turned into a sharp zero,

An everlasting loss.

I turned into poetry people loved

But I did not.

Because it was a bleeding

Only an intensive bleeding.

7

I do not conceal this secret from you;

After your green night,

The nights became fragments.

After your fresh bed

The beds were no more than deathbeds.

After your room on the top

The rooms rendered into basements.

After your sharp kiss and honey saliva,

The kisses became slain birds.

And after your words as good as childhood,

Words became artificial teeth.

 8

After you left, time got lost

And nobody knew where.

I asked everything about everything

But nothing answered me about anything.

I published an advertisement

In all the newspapers,

Asking, where, where and where

So, I was accused of mystery,

Forgetfulness and nowhere.

 

9

I imagined women to be like you;

Trees of green and fruit of gold,

But my imagination was naked,

And my nakedness was great.

I imagined the towns to be like yours

To be myths of black love, kisses of fire

And stormy meetings like glassfuls of alcohol

But I found them towns of dead people

Who communicated through barking

And offered each other

Nothing but bouquets of insults.


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