Beyond the years we extend,
Carrying our escape
As if a monk's lantern,
So, it gets darker.
Our fingers will dare
To pierce the throne of water.
Here,
Dreams are still postponed
Flirting over the banks
Of the wound.
We cut our fingers
So as not to pierce anything else.
(C) The Fourth D
We deprecate,
Denounce,
Denunciate…,
Ds that satiated
The mouth of fog
Like dry waves.
Empty stomachs
Are never satded
But by the fourth D.
(3)
Light Tree
By
Hammoudi al-Salaami
All the time
The odor of speech is ink,
A key to every route
Towards a soft-intention heart;
And the daughter of the sound way
For building the lovers' fence
Shaded by beautiful coo.
Some old debate is there
Favored by inducers' hearts
And wolves' hands.
(4) The Painting
By
Ali al-Uboudi
Confused was he,
Wondering where to go,
His thoughts were turbulent:
Would something exceptional save him?
An oil painting in his hand,
Busy all night drawing itــ
ـــFurther nights have already passed,
Who would buy?
Nobody.
Tired of walking at largeـــ
ــ People are bewildered to earn their living.
He arrived home feeling cold,
Entered his room contemplating long,
Broke the painting to make fuel
So that he would be warm.
(5)
Three Scenes
By
Hussein Nassir Jabr al-Ibadi
(A) Under the Rain
In winter, we shall meet
At the Railway station,
In Baghdad.
Two strange sparrows,
Wet and shivering
Under the rain,
Migrated from the farthest south
At the corner of the Gulf.
Nestless, we've lost our home;
We've lost all the addresses
Of our friends.
Remained as such alone,
Known to no one but the rain.
(B) The Sun
Lest it should be celled,
The sun balled its face.
So, it became prisoner
Within its light.
But, when released,
Turned into bouncing positrons,
Burning its cores,
Devouring its light buds.
When will you be ,O , Sun!
As seen in the dreams
Of those who own no overcoats?
(C) Slow to Depart
Beyond my eyes, I crushed mirrors.
Yesterday was just an escaping moment,
Today is more severe than the scars
Decorating my hiding skin.
Pale was the surplus of my innards.
Glory to the successive moments
Parted from the past but by me;
We're all passing away,
Though slow to depart.
(6)
Two Poems
By
Kadhim Nassir a-Ibadi
Moaning
Distances…
Were stricken by sins.
Stations…
For comers, are oasis
In which horizon time had vanished
And space had missed itself.
Dream
As children, we dreamt of the Eid's dress ــ
In which pocket a sum of coins ــ of the swing
And of the Girls' Hair*. (*sweet)
When youths, we dreamt that
We should the girls induce
So that would Layla long for a kiss,
Bushra, eager for a verse of love,
Thiqra, Lubna and so many there.
Dreams are open to every one.
Here again we are back
To indulge in wishes
And in dreaming that
We've found our way to live
The life we'd dreamt of
And that we would feed
On lands that are our own
Given not as a favour of which
Rulers, oppressors and tyrants
Would always reminisce,
And keep on reminding us:
(We've always been bare-footed,
Easily satisfied with crumbs of bread.)
Years have gone by,
We would only hope.
Nothing but wishes ــ
For our stomachs, eyes, and children:
(That good is on the way.)
Now, we've come of age.
We can only see
The tyrants' bellies are getting fatter,
Their throne is larger but
Children's dreams, adult dreams, old- age dreams
Have but been shattered.
