One Day Upon A Wide Bed
For the thousandth time, please don't go. For the thousandth time, I take you by the hand and run through the minefields. In the fields of blood. In the fields of wheat.
Please don't go
Don't go with a slain deer in your eyes. Don't go And under your skin the dead whistle with their broken lips. Don't go, my darling, please don't go.
Come kiss me before your trembling lips get slaughtered by their long knives. Come let us babble easily and painlessly. Come, let us speak, for example: of worms that invade the botanies. About the minerals that chirp the fingers of the workers in a wondrous manner.
Tell me about the verdant plains. About the ibex jumping happily when they gnaw at the grass of joy with a freedom that only resembles my heart when it beats with its black flags above the barracks of warriors who only dream.
They dream of three meters of comfort. They dream of a cold shower.
They dream of a woman singing in a sad voice, and a child who says to every man she meets: I want a father. Tell me about the world and its five continents, and then tell me about time. Tell me about all ages, starting from the deadly stone age and ending with our butcher age.
Tell me about the serial killers in embassies, alleys, cinemas, kitchens, matchboxes, water bottles, shoes, Ronson lighters, Microfilm companies, and Ugarit socks.
Talk to me so I love you
Talk to me so I love you
“I love you”
This is what the oaks say to the hammer, “I love you”. I have a day in disobedience and flowers in the streets “I love you” This is what I say This is what the man behind him says the windows are falling and under him the earth groans “I love you” I have snow in all fireplaces and mud in all winters Me the impermeable wall Heavy handcuffs Slow time And to me the flower that flows from your lungs My breath My love My breath Behold, the air is barking in the alleys with its dull voice Behold, the blood flows over the flesh of the balconies I wrap my heart and my heart is ringing the bells of the shabby bodies Washed shabby bodies The trees covered with grain and their orange juice With icons and images of saints, stones, knobs, roofs, shoes, flags, dictionaries, men, women, cats, axes, batons, demons... Come and hear the sound of terror in the streets, come to me all, come to me without exception.
O woman, come to hold you
Child, come, let me tell you the tale of the wolf and the hare
Naked, come to shower you with kisses
Dry fields, come to give you the green of my blood
O sun, why are you shivering from the cold, and my heart's wood is ready to burn? And you question Oh questions Come let's break together with the windows that block the freshness of screaming I will ask the girls: Why are you depressed And the music of Demis Roussos is bottled in kazoos I will ask the hungry: Why don't you eat the tons of apples that the imperialists waste every day at sea? I will ask the olive trees on the outskirts of Damascus: Who stole your papers at night and made them a pillow for the thugs? I will ask thugs about trees, trees, streets, about persecution, persecution, about my beloved, and I will say to my beloved, I say to my beloved, who sells gargoyles and mangoes in Bab Tuma: I am weary as a serpent swallowing an egg, and I say to my beloved, as I listen to the singing of the dead in the coffins, to the roar of war in the country: Come Let's walk and remember how kings used to commit suicide because their bare eyes were extinguished because a handsome heart lit up.
Come to be optimistic. One day, on a spacious bed, on a vast bed, where: birds are bombing planes. Martyrs put killers on electric chairs. Flowers are sharpened. A vast bed, I open a hole in your burning flesh, O earth, and I cast my destruction upon you.