Homeland and Things, Others
Afrah Al-Kubaisi
Translated by: Fawzi Al-Shalbi
Thus the homeland passes
Painful as the blade of a knife
Desperate like the comedy plays
Collecting all what he faces of ironies
Thus passes the homeland
With a people addicted despair
Accepted sleepiness in swamps
If the homeland were a man
I should say to him ... get destructed
To your madness, idiocy and riot, your feet made when you stroll
And set myself into a corner, hands burying my head and said: enough
Thus pass the whole to where no spring and no bunch of soil
And thus we walk, masked eyes, stitched lips ... with hunched back
And melt in our grieves like a mini wing of a butterfly
And laugh at ourselves and of them sometimes
And thus hope seems, the greatest irony in the universe
And we return back dreaming of absence, of postponed death and misery
And envy the sun, the ants and the waste, our waste
Talking to pillow over the bed about grieves the strange to us
And about sea of blood ... thus was its shape ... thus was its taste in
our hearts
And about blackness to cover our smiles … and the dust
And thus fetching with sleepless eyes for a bird and a remainder of a
flower
To munch our grieves calmly
And thus wound ourselves in endless circles
And the roads still weeping ... homeland feet hits from behind