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    Hasab Sheikh Jafar

    Poems 

     

     

    As long as you are speechless like a wall!
    Didn't you find someone else to ask for a meeting or a dialogue?
    The day has gone and you are spinning around me!
    While the birds took refuge in their green nests
    And clear the corridor... where the cellar light lighthouse!
    Why hang around without a hat as a wild sailor?
    The pirates old men were dozed, and the salt surrounded the ropes
    The wind plays with long white beards!


    (2)


    What if I sat with you day after day
    My feet were numb from sitting for so long
    What if I wore lapis lazuli or persuaded ?
    With In the deceptive extra red, where gold and fire met
    The lines will sink into the sand while the melted color will be erased!
    You may wake up and don't see
    me only the camouflage step in the soil!



    (3)

    As the basil blooms in the wilderness
    While the grass grows, forests and the branchs of plants that grow near rivers
    Hair, lips, and eyeballs will grow in the cloth
    The child awakens in the gesture of remembrance
    without a hand ,the limp lines heal and complete!


    (4)


    On such a wet tips of the night
    Where the genie and the monkey frolic in the wilderness
    the witch rides a winged broom
    That over the hills and the swaying clouds
    While the magician does what the artist does not do!



    (5)

    I have one face in two paintings
    If you stare at one of them
    The Fog enveloped upon the other
    There is a long way to the  thirsty who walks between the two oases
    Till the north gathers the sand and scatter it through the waste.. 

    (6)

    Only its eroded lines still remain
    As if the air sucking its
    Dyed from, and kept its fram to me!
    While I woke up from my sleep today as if a hand was leading
    My stepping towards the old corner, I didn't find it under the curtain
    There is nothing but a shadow that faded and folded and hid and vanished!



    (7)

    I’ll take a look at the shop and the house
    Where drink a cup of tea and come back!
    A cafe and a factory have narrowed down with living people 
    While the heavy melodies running toward idle!


    (8)

     I will not be a beggar of rhyme who like a stray one !
    I reach out for the box, and it’s as always is..
    The clouds are thundering, which looks heavy rain!


    (9)

    I still remember the two beaches, I remember a crazy wailing of a woman which 
    , predicts fires , drought , and the damage of
    planes, that raids as an ugly Crows!


    (10)
    I’m screaming loudly to get - the husks of the last song - as who enjoys his fruits
    Like the Caldock which in the middle of noon

    (11)

    That the (encircled) city
    Which fall asleep like any city, so why the candles lit
    For her eyes, I light the serenity

    (12)
    The redhead has become as a companion to me
    Whom chats me , I don't listen to her
    There is nothing left except (zero) of all his things!




    (13)

    Lean cats may nibble cucumber
    In thier way of searching of mice 
    while (Poets) may be accustomed to get harvesting during (publication)

    (14)

    In the moonlit village as a homelesses
    Like a beggar gets lit from the lighted hut
    the winter passed as leaning on its stepping..


    (15)

    Like women dancers who sitting always in mirrors
    they aspirate the dyes which the morning clears it
    where (the rhymes)  naked as a scandal


    (16)


    May the obituary knocks the Newspaper pages, but it is not permissible 
    (while at the top of the station there’s a clock strikes)
    In the afternoon, the passport will be sealed!


    (17)

    The willow is stripping , as someone is walking
    While The far casket was folded..
    The rainy night will be long in its barracks!

    (18)

    I was the captain of the ship, Tigris and Euphrates
    Both of them were overflow and abound
    So, Why do I make the yellow paper boat which seems as the crumbs?


    (19)

    You will come back wrapped as any a corpse
    And the grave gets narrowing with the child who is in..
    Perhaps under the two palm trees, there is   a dewy soil for burial the mats - which made from the palms wicker- 

    (20)


    And my lover is a woman in her thirties who still in thirties although the centuries passed
    In the palms
    The noon is boiling and the rice is inhale the dew, she came with seductive thighs,
    , we lay down the
    Sanabels .. I get a night that I lived it for thirty centuries, get off the Mongols from the Caesar's wife, she splintered
    The earth cracked , the caves brought back to me the moans of the beasts
    Which became extinct before the animal kingdom

    (21)


    And when the stars hide in the trees
    The smoke carry us
    As sails to cafés wearing gown of the moon
    So hands dream
    With a woman whose dress slips off her much tender shoulders.


    (22)


    I gather the old dust, I gather the echo off the pictures of my face, The nights are empty howdahs and the maids have swings and shade, they stare at me lustfully, And spinning my face as threads that scattered by the wind, Throw it in smoke cafés and bars, every dawn I see my face with my eyes as peel and lettuce leaves  
    collected from a bar tables, and throw it in Barrels, My face is like the newspapers that are swept, my face was chosen by the queen , Who one century I seated on my lap, And I told her about my father and the scars that the sickles left it in his palms, and she said, and her arms held me for a long time: Bless you my savage child, I’ve been waiting for you since I was enthroned.

    (23)

    She drank her bitter coffee at the airport café
    The miserable dawn of other cities beats upon her shoulders
    Behind the crystal wall was a hairless, slender face 
    And with sunglasses, and a stuffed, loose , thick scarf
    Like a luxurious cat that fell asleep on the carpet in the day sun

    (24)


    Your dewy golden face follows me
    As a sea bird embracing the absence of ships
    And my shroud shines in its wing flapping
    A runaway treading the world
    hungry , surviving on the crumbs of your love,
    Without family, nor home


    (25)

    Our days flow as water flows from the fingers of the hands
    Oh strange dove , come back to me,
    Come back to me now in the pale of your arms as a milk
    When I grow old, the suns in your hands will not be able to melt
    The snows of my last days, and in our planet the flower will not grow twice
    Come back to me, only winter opens its hands to me


    (26)
    This is the last day which 
    I get out
    From the depths of the buried cities
    don’t be close to me
    You won’t understand me
    At dawn I come back as a white smoke

     (27) 

    Under the autumn leaves, where the slow footsteps, I never met you
    Or in the drizzle of dawn,when you were a hurried laughter
    In the raincoat, there was a neglected bag...
    on the phone your voice as a twilight that asking me to meet?
    My lips stumbled, and my hands choked.
    But I will keep dreaming that your shy step will pass one day over the arch of the poem.


    (28)


    From a hut that covered with pumpkins,
    Smoke call us: It’s a lunchtime
    The sun left a thread of blood in the clouds
    And in our clothes there are dew and mud still sticks.

    (29)

    Now, there is a cigarette in her ivory mouth ,
    Drinking coffee or sitting near the old big musical instrument,
    She wears her tight pants to death, wraps via a shadow of a fairy tale
    Or via a blue dream, there are a crystal palace, a tiger and a giraffe in her hands 
    Upon her beaches, willows and orphaned birds are weeping,
    Take the drowsy flower of sorrow, which never been touched by a dew or a breeze..

    (30)

    Upon the table dust, a boat landed me and turn behind the bare brilliance that melted 
    In the galaxies of the cold centuries,
    Oh the love that kindles my eyelids with salt and mirage
    The planet has fallen into a long sleep
    Why doesn’t sleep visit my eyelids like an impossible bird?

    (31)

    Your summer that full of woods, the clouds that touch the edges of the trees
    And the scent of wet lilac,where the light is cloudy,
    When thunder blew close to us, my arms hold you tight
    As an old cave , we entered the trees ways, which being coiled
    And we slept on the dry leaves and straw
    Your yellow wet hair like wheat, rains upon my face,
    And on the alabaster there are lightning and rain

    (32)

    Oh the love that kindles my eyelids with salt and mirage
    Let me touch the face of bare brilliance which melted in the water that burned my hands for a year after a year 
    To sing as a planet drowning in a muddy pub of darkness
    To pray and sleep


    (33)

    Everything from you, but the bare brilliance, I see it like a silk in my hands or like flames on the lips
    Oh the love that kindles my eyelids with the sun of sleeplessness
    Who wore me a crown of dust in the deserted planet?


    (34)

    Here, I am still looking for the bird of ash
    In the flames of the mortal body and the jungle of sleeplessness,
    This lock of your hair like a wind and sparks
    This glass which was rolled
    Here I am drinking fire from its green pottery
    Oh The love that kindles my eyelids with salt and astragalus,
    What burns me alive and keeps the soul as a thread of silk, or like a bird of green alabaster that doesn’t fold its wing or fly?

    (35)

    Street asphalt ways imbibe me
    Like a bird lost the sound
    The bars imbibe me
    Like a face of a dead prophet


    (36)


    We look for an apple or a bite in the crowd of dining table
    Looking for a single cigarette .
    For anything
    we fall laughing, the silk dress slips , the moon fades in the eyes
    The wind warp on the surface 
    Twilight lights up our wet window
    Something tastes likes the ice and oranges
    The taste of the long nights on the lower lip
    Or the hair if it pours , covering hills or high peaks
    deserted and bare...

    (37)

    Smoke over and over there’s nothing but smoking 
    And ask the glass leftovers in every bar
    How did the past pass by , and it’s too late?

    (38)

    Leave a softness or a shiver of your cheeks in my palms, Time passes by without them and they beat as long as I wait, Water flows , dig the paleness of your face in my eyeballs and my hands، whenever I desert in the edge of desertion, I rest in a dewy shade of the softness of your shy eyelash. Your face is the old serenity of my papers.

    (39)

    Water in the old light, water in the old shadow,
    The water carries him, he’s two-days old, sweet asleep, a scarf is wrapping  around the neck, green eyes open under the water? This bastard ? Should we carry him to the orchard?
    Sir, bury him under the palm trees.. It was said: A women lives behind a reed fence who fell in love with one of the neighbour’s boys, It was said: she has green eyes and her cheeks shine like mirrors. Also said : A widow if her braids are loosened it would plonk down like shining gold on the rug.. I glimpsed her one day, do you remember oh old river?

    (40)

    The grass, animal , and the old fire, are my friends, The wind brings me the scent of the melilot, The grass, and animal, and the old fire , are friends of a shy girl ,who I shivered off her eyes, I hugged, she cried, we were as two children cuddling each other, I sipped her lips as never tasted, The dew of her lips, were carrying the scent of melilot for me Or was it the wind, in the reeds of the banks? water still flowing? dawn was dewy and an old scent

    (41)

    You, or the dust in my fingers ?
    You, or the broken blue bottle in my fingers?
    I was at the bottom of the muddy night for Centuries ago
    To seek for your face through the dust of years..
    Oh, a piece of a broken jar!
    Come back as you were, blow your soul into the wings of the oxen
    In these ruined structures, kindle the fire
    When you’re tired, lay down in the shade of that garden

    (42)
    (Towards her, I extended my palm
    I pulled the veil off her forehead
    When I hugged her,
    I folded my ulna upon the soil)

    (43)
     The Moons of Andalusian vines
     Captivated by the blackness of her eyes, and  the stars are the carpet of her legs
     The garden of her cheek is fragrant, and her dress is gold and fire
     Her eyes are a day in every darkness
     Oh distant spring
     Do not cry in my heart, cause her love is a sun and feast

    (44)

    The deaf rock explodes to dew when the caller calls out the name of my beloved , 
    the steppes tremble shiny and secretly
    Oh distant spring..
    Don’t  cry in my heart, cause her love, still a new one for ever

    (45)

    (The summer of the soul is wrapped with dust
    The wall crumbles,
    Fly and fly over the roof of the damaged world
    Oh a wind that similar to heartbreak , oh a  bird of fire)

    (46)

    (I feel my heart like a street that washed by the rain
    Threw its empty roof, at the middle of the night 
    Old trees fell asleep upon it
    As a heartbeat , those confused hoofs disturbed it
    I feel that the wind guides the paths
    in my far country there is a broken window ,and a single palm slapped by the rain
    The sad villages lits up its lights , And the night was like ashe that rained down behind it,
    He walked his path that paved by gravel of  the river)

    Moscow / 1965


    (47)

     (I die without a friend or a brother whose eyes get wet for me
    And my eyeballs closed his palms
    The smell of the harvest that mixed with my watery dress
    I forgot them beyond the distant horizon
    And my saliva dried up, and the palm of God was burned in my heart)

    Moscow / 1964

    (48)

     (Oh village of my fathers that deserted in the water
    Your soil received us when we get birth time
    And it fed us with bread and water
    and also blossom, which was hidden during the summer
    If one day the sword of lightning tore the skin of a buffalo,
    Thunder rumbled, and God's tears flowed in order to
    Open the gardens of crows' feet and cress plant
    The bitter taste of melilot like the bitter taste of our ordinary winter
    The sweetness of your dates that dipped in yogurt like the taste of our summer)

    Moscow / 1964

    (49)

    (Oh village that still in warmth of shadows
    oh we wish that we still 
    play on the threshing floor during its whirlwind
    At the last nights,the ducks releasing their fearful cries in order to wake us up)

    Moscow / 1961

    (50)

     

    (Where do we come from? All of the pathways denied us
    At night it closed all of its doors.
    A village that shines across its steppe
    Does the forest remember its lumberjacks?)

    (51)

     

    (Oh my sad country, oh the  gardens of weeping
    without a robe, Oh wanderer in the wind and fields
    The sun on his forehead, also the sea and the sky
    Kiss the tears in your green saintly eyes
    Kiss the dew in bunches on your brown forehead)

    Moscow / 1961


    (52)

     

    Once we sit in the noon sun
    Another time we read little things
    Saadoun was laughing like a heaven 
    If he sees (a feudal man’s palace)*, will be
    sulky like winter
    One day ,When evening get It's dark, and the night is approaching, He said:
    (Night comes and after the night there is sun)

    Moscow / 1961



    (53)

    (Ah, who taught him to navigate the seas of salt, who made him accustomed to chew the stones.
    His heart dried up, and neither can your lightening revive him nor the sound of rain.
    He passed under other skies
    Like a wanderer who carries a sack of gypsies in his alienation.)



    (54)

     

    (my palm,
     I still remind your child who spends his day merrily on trees
    Seeking for her nest who mourns in her alienation 
    ...a house and other trees.
    My palm, do you remember him?
    Your crying child whose arms are stretched to the mast of the ship,
    At that day, he even kissed his sultana under the trees.)



    (55)

    (at the wedding of the moon , Your sweet red bunches are dangling on your chest
    And the birds that frolic on your hair,
    that do not know the meaning of caution in their playing
    And all of the nights and their staying up
    And the aroma of rice and the wind...
    ...and the shadow of green Palm fronds in the heart of the river,
    And the thirstiness of songs of a lover..
    And the news of the dismal crow which its sound seems directed to the absent one and all of the sickness
    And the gypsy harp.)

    Moscow / 1962


    (56)


    (He does not know where she disappeared,
    simply she did not come on time. They were in love
    And love at their time
    As a traveler comes and leaves suddenly, we don't know where goes )

    Moscow / 1963

    (57)

    May I choose?
    Any abandoned Man has a choice of being closer 
    I will be whatever You want
    I will be as a shadow or as an ash)


    (58)


    (Oh the call of the sea.. the dew and the fruits
     In remote islands
    And we are in our barren desert
    We are chewing the silence of the night, the silence of the stone)

    Moscow / 1962

    (59)


    As a little girl with a pale face ,She came to him
    Her smile slips into his lips, her braid twistes
    In his thirsty palm, they hug each other for a long time
    All of her Melt in his hands, and all of the darkness pulls the afternoon light 
    Via the pale of chestnut colors that melt in
    red , (Oh my friend, kiss me long)

    Moscow / 1963

    (60)


    “ Oh young man, for God’s sake tell me how the bird of death with a pierced forehead came to your eyes?
    When it  folded and wrapped as a thread around  the lit root of your skin that burned in the embers of longing ? “


    (61)

    You visited us one day, and in your eyes there  was a sun and stars, and on your palm there was dew carrying waves of vineyards... A shy moment, and the steps echoed in the alley, and the hands of strangers fell like a rock, above the door

    (62)

    All over the night, which was blazing, there was a cooing of a dove of unknown art. That  keeps me awake
    All over the night,  it follows me
    With the north wind, that driving papers without a homeland
    And it flutters in the clash of waves and the ships
    Such as a sea bird that shines, In the flutter of its wings is my shroud


    (63)

    The groan of the oud did not shake me with longing for you, nor the rhyme of a merry singer, nor the scent of lavender and roses: 
    Rather, the dyed twilight of the  violet  that shook me.

    (64)
    When The night was quiet , the roosters were motionless, The wind cried as a groan, as a moan. Who awakened the lonely heart, which has only slept for minutes, or even seconds, since a long time ago?


    (65)
    ا
    The fire has been burning for us for a long time 
    While the black coffee fragrant still waiting
    And I see
    A hidden coffin that cannot be seen
    A coffin that will be carried to those villages
    That ship after a while..
    Is it my coffin? Or the coffin of another farmer


    (66)

    The fire has been burning for us for a long time 
    While the black coffee fragrant still waiting
    And I see
    A hidden coffin that cannot be seen
    A coffin that will be carried to those villages
    That ship after a while..
    Is it my coffin? Or the coffin of another farmer

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