Ibrahim Nasrallah Poems

Under the yoke of our mornings
the sun crumbles
and in the darkness of our steps
our panting breath is on fire
...

He bequeathed his soul…to horses' foreheads
His feet…to a dance that makes the earth want to
Be green
...

We are alive this morning
And are still here
We cried a lot
...

Who loves the winter as you do?
And is fascinated by trees that resist the wind as you do?
And who like you perfects life
...

Away from the flowerpots
and the scissors of the housewives
in the graveyards the rose bushes whisper:
...

In that good and distant city
in a courtyard full of grass
...

In the beginning
the horses said, we need plains
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On the first day
I held my hand as it drew a coffin
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Yes
the house is a grave with a door and a window
...

Three small dreams, alone
pass through the night
searching for a house
...