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ANGLES OF SAND
(Between the Two of Them, Time Gets Rusty, 1994)
Written By
SHARIF AL-SHAFI’I
Translated By: Professor,
Mohammed Enani.
(Wounding your sword with your cells,
Your
store victory in a game .. which is yours alone.
The
masses are days scattered about.
You, my
girl, now read the glass on my forearms,
Giving
me a desire
..
..
to
glide over the constants.
The
backbone is free of any slaves' necks,
And the
fingers grow on a river bank.
For a
distance,
I may:
have a mistress-oh, for a flower of salt,
Blessed
with clashing hurricanes.
How did
your flesh pour forth,
In the
earth's amazent
..
Inventing: a girl child freezing,
And a
woman for banquets?
A
mallet on the weeds of your eyes.
Buttons
of coma in your shirt..
Whoever
did unleash the ox,
In the
body/letter?
The
girls want a man to be a cane,
And the
flies come down on the dead thigh,
Whose
silence calls on you to climb it.
A
coffee, brewed from "I love you",
Is in
the throat,
And a
woman, as in the beginning,
Is an
apple..
(Her
heaped breast is an apple).
As
multiple, it leaves its hallmark,
In an
inhalation..,
Will
you come in-(for I am only)
Some
bunches of grapes, engrossed in:
Trying
to discover my race,
A man
whose mother suckled him..
His
name, as a curdling milk?
What is
the color of this..
..?
So that
the green color of my blood,
Is
truly the language of truth?
A
whirlpool of noises,
While
you remain outside an inviting bottle.
A piece
of you, spun with my own hand.
We meet,
And to
you comes a man engrossed,
In
trying to discover his race.
(Between the Two of Them, Time Gets Rusty, 1994). |
