A Word Poem by Habib Fares

When a word sprouts
In my paper,
Death breathes
Inside me,
Its fingertips catches
A piece of love

A smile
Blossoms on my lips,
When I see my word
Over its white stage,
Dancing with the stars
On the rhythm of its
Anklets

When the wings
Of my word flap,
My blood rises,
Opening its arms
For birds
To fly

I smell in my
Dew wrapped word,
A virgin love story
Of teenagers,
Too shy to reveal
Their love
To each other

I see in the sweat
Raining from the forehead
Of my word,
The beautiful face
Of my grand mother,
Baking over her sheet iron,
My loaf of bread,
Embroidered with
The grains
Of terebinth

The word asks me
Whether it is attractive,
It bathed with joy
If I replied:
The smooth terrains
Of your body
Fascinate me

The finest
Of my word,
If it would be
Aimed by a
Freedom fighter
Against the occupation
To explode
A Merkava tank


(Written in Arabic in Sydney,2006. Translated by the poet.)