Abdel latif Moubarak

Abdel latif Moubarak Poems

The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence... the flock of stillness.
...

The child residing deep inside me,
When fear ignites, blazes with delight,
Shattering every frame,
Out that the morrow,
...

I gather the faces of people,
in the treasure of folly,
engraving upon my poor dress
a song, a silent prayer.
...

A Martyr

Sign me up, right here,
To a womb that defies history's commute.
...

Sorrows planted deep inside hearts,
Awakening seeds of fear,
With horror facts concealed and capped.
Dressed in the wear of silence,
...

Abdel latif Moubarak Biography

Abdel Latif Moubarak (Arabic: ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?) is an Egyptian poet (born 1964) . He is a member of the Egyptian Writers Union and a member of the Arab Writers on the Internet. He was born in Suez and writes poetry using classical Arabic and Egyptian vernacular. He received a Bachelor of Law from Ain Shams University. He was one of the most important poets of the 1980s and his poems were published in several literary magazines in Egypt and the Arab world, including the Arab magazine, Kuwait magazine, News Literature, Republic newspaper, Al-Ahram, the new publishing culture (magazine) .[1])

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The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence... the flock of stillness.
Depart to where we began our journey,
Indeed, the streams hold but fragments.
To a time squandered,
Forgive my death when I choose you,
To the mercy of the devout, in protest,
To the dwelling of the wound,
The distance of desolation.
And your endurance was to borrow
From the star, the day of collapse's rituals.
Within you, the debasement of poems eludes,
Towards the sunrise.
And you quiet above some plains
The languages of apprehension,
In your sailing times.
You soothe the blaze of solitude... cities,
And pour into the eye the tears of reunion,
Branches from the beginning we were,
For the land of severance.
We carry to it the beseeching letters,
To write in love,
The beloved's spinning song.
And you still swear by the earthquake,
So as to prepare a new homeland,
Which the questions lost in their lament,
And the impossible bolted its gates
With bursts of time that began to depart.
You never left the harvests of remembrance,
That we were quenching.
With your silence, visions will not overflow
The boundaries of emptiness.
And we...
Are in vain.

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