Companions Poem by RABIA DJELTI

Beneath my balcony
a night
leans with its boughs on the roads
extends its arms over the lamps
tickles the stars
seduces darkness
And presses its wines in a song.

Beneath my balcony
Two stony seats
closed to themselves the doors of slumber
opened their sky for wakefulness
laughing till their umbilical cords exploded.

They wink at each other
whimper.
They say there is no power but in God.
They speak in the name of God.
They whisper the secrets of their companions
and of the queerness of people.
They whisper
about the fondness of girls
and the cunning of males
about the market economy
ad lovers' tears
about religions
and the horror of wars
about expensive dowries
and alienation
about the wonders of habit
and conspiracies
about makeup

and demonstrations
about madness
and smart bombs
about the epidemic of wrinkles
and the round tables' dialogue
about suicide
and democracy
about visas
and history
about contraceptive bills
and geography
about boredom
Etcetera.
Etcetera.
Etcetera.

Beneath my balcony
the two mean seats,
the two wise seats
open the door of sleep
and yawn
thanking the generous God
that they are made of stone.