I heard a burdend echo down the alleys of this war-torn town, a familiar tone, galling, they say – little do they know it was a warrior’s cry. I still recognized it. Of course I did! How could I not? One glimpse was enough to say it […]
You’re utterly alone. You’re Adam’s first sin, and the many following reincarnation of this sin. I remember the puberty event of our neighbor’s daughter. There has been all these cries mixed with laughter. “You’re a big girl now, my dear”, everyone tells her, right before […]
Stinging and cold, and surrounded by imaginations It is like the spring where my hand fell As I washed it from his voice and from his breath and like a truth that widens the more we dig It becomes a forest, then a sea, then […]
Willkommen Reinheit! Willkommen ängstlicher Geruch! Ich versuche, deine Schönheit zu beschreiben Mit bordeauxroten Buchstaben. Ich versuche die Engel anzuziehen Mit deiner Schönheit Ich versuche, die Meeresfische zu sammeln, Um in deinem Namen zu schwimmen Morgens und nachts Beim heiligen Gebet Hast du rosige Wangen Du […]
Damascus Countryside 2012 7 PM. One of the war machinery – as I wasn’t familiar with the types of them at the time – had hit my house. 10 PM. I’m inviting my friends tomorrow to a sleepover party. 1 AM. One more song for […]
Your little girl Your missing rib A girl who turns the rattle of your heart on in her bed The crackling of your joints while you make love to her Like an old man moving slowly between the kiss and the shoes And [she who] […]
I have been getting strange states of déjà vu these last few days. I hear the phone without ringing, noises of all the coming visitors while no one is really here and I see your face in every corner I look. A half-wrecked wall, which […]
Es war einmal eine Mutter, Die beschützte ihre Kinder vor aller Gefahr. Die Mutter des Arabischen. Ja… Die Mutter alles Arabischen. Gottes Paradies auf Erden, des Volkes Schatz in unseren Händen, unser wundervolles Land, unser anmutiges Land. Die warme Umarmung, die uns zusammen bringt, das […]
On that fateful day we had to cut our feet. Or at least so we thought, as we looked at the warm black paste that began to stretch out over our dusty playground, over the memory of the days we spent on this dust. The […]
