Other passers-by
come,
from where we used to come,
and go into the night.
...
In my morning this morning
Who looks at me, in surprise,
From the mirror?
...
A night is searching its night:
It is not this darkness
Nor the sombreness of the sea
It is not the slumber of plants
...
Not only hands
Words fail the poet too.
From the hidden depths of the soul
...
Snips of dried petals,
Scraps of faded papers,
Echoes of scattered words,
And an endless waiting for miracles –
...
• Egyptian poet who writes both in Arabic and English. • He has translated into Arabic poems by Emily Dickinson, William Buttler Yeats, Ted Hughes, Sylvia Plath, Paul Eluard, Matsu Basho, and Pablo Neruda. • In addition to writing and translating poetry, he is a lecturer of English literature at Helwan University, Cairo, Egypt. • About writing poetry, he says: “I write poetry simply because I sometimes have nothing else to say, and because I hate prattle”.)
A Road Without You
Other passers-by
come,
from where we used to come,
and go into the night.
The night
merges two shadows into one
and my shadow is lonely
dispersed by the light.
The light
disturbs lusts in the eyes
and leaves my eyes victims
to this tumult.
The tumult
hinders the primitive dialogue
between the murk and a torrent of desires
and between the road and footfalls.
What has led my steps
to look for
our scattered steps
on a road without you?
(Translated from Arabic by the author)