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A poem by: Sabri Silevani
Translated by Huda M. Salih
(How easy it is to praise success, but how
hard it is to admit defeat)
Every night I torment the tenderness of my
feelings with a legend of love, shake off the
dust of frivolity of youth on my stature.
Like a beggar, I suture the rapture of my lungs
in the ardor of love. I run away from the years
of my age and eventually I move for taking
refuge in your meadows. I wipe off the slivers
of the words of fate and for your conversation I
learn another language.
In the heart of the blue alienation I put out
the rise of my day and strew it torn for your
presence. With white I don myself and head for
bowing down.
With a bunch of light I purify myself from the
sins of the passing years. My body is in
perspiration of the fever of death. My eyes are
falling down from my visage like two autumn
leaves.
I still recall, time of farewell has come. My
torn veins have become the thread to sew the
earth. The water on the wane, my blood has
extended a red carpet for the advent of Death
Angel. Since then I am broken. Since then at the
end of whispers, the shaking echoes of my calls
and pleas in the prayers of love , the throne of
Eros is shaken. The frustration of all lovers is
delivered.
Useless is Divinity in the time of liberty. It
is greatly hard that a free slave worships an
enslaved divinity.
Do you know on every paper I put down deity?
Do you know how many sheets I tear every day?
But, in which lands should I burry them? What
inscription should I write on the tomb?
No home….
No identity….
We adored its ruins, locked gate, broken
windows….
At the district entrance, children are playing
hide and seek. I close my eyes too, waiting for
your foot steps, your perfume. I am waiting for
the gleam of your vision, the downpour of your
rain.
With a fatigue disturbed imagination I burden my
head, lean on a rift in the old clayey wall. As
prophet Suleiman I gather my grief and pain to
adorn your path.
But it is still a wish
The vision of deity
Your vision
The vision of ten dreams….
The first dream
In lowland
The light kissed my forehead
The uproar by the horses of raid,
Sleep from my eyes dismissed.
Knights are falling down on tops.
On the ground,
Lips are red.
Lips of death, they sup.
The second dream
At dawn,
For a moment, late was the sun.
The stars were dark
I was…
Looking for my mother's cloak.
The third dream
The infant's chuckles
Is louder than Athan*.
In the murmur of the fish in my eyes
Your roar.
The fourth dream
As an old maid,
I am a girl.
My white locks I braid
Truly…
Manhood terminated.
The fifth dream
For the white doves,
The sky is on blaze,
The sun is a handful dust
In the death combat
You desired,
My lips touch yours.
The sixth dream
I am Adam,
On earth, waiting
With Satan you eloped
With the bless of God, you are married .
The seventh dream
Under the heavy rain
In the shadow of Divinity, I trembled.
But, the gate was closed,
The light was dead.
The eighth dream
All men
All women
Dancing uncovered
I Divinity gown hold
Let the gown
And engrossed in dancing.
The ninth dream
Before I held the right,
You my left hand let.
The tenth dream
In famine,
One spike survived
I wanted to plant,
But, you ate it.
*Athan is the call of the mosques for Muslims to
pray.
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Visitors
Ten Dreams