The Metamorphoses Poem by Hussein Barghouthi

I meant a different context,
Other than my first context, and other than my other context,
And what I will contextualize,
Other than the grass, the earth, the first kiss
And other than the other kiss,
And what I had liked, and what I like
And other than this familiar breath, other than poetry and poets,
And what this wise prophet speaks in the twitch of revelation,
I meant other than the first bank, and other than the other one,
And other than he who philosophizes, and the philosophies,
And other than the first step,
And other than the other one.
I call it metamorphosis
Call it what you wish, however you desire
It is the divergence from what you named,
And the desire for other than what you desired,
So call it: contrary dance,
Another context, I meant,
So name it: a dream, an obscure ray like green mixed with blood,
Name it!
For I meant other rays,
And something other than what I expressed (for what I express is a summer in which our females can't menstruate in its heat, a sterile bird that doesn't lay eggs, it is the acceleration of extinction here…) .
I meant a pleasure of a different kind,
Something that doesn't limit, that is not known by limits,
That is out of what I contextualize,
I meant the astonishment of a forest that flied to a star on top of a flying night,
So did you understand me, through a language chased by mosquitoes? ...
Superior experiences, I meant,
I meant other than the confession in a moment of weakness,
Other than the soul's compensations in order to be satisfied with half,
This is not of my taste, I meant,
"With other than this I arrived"
Damned, my soul! Change…
This evening in a journey through wilderness above
The step of a blue horse that swims under a saddle of planets,
Change
Towards the neigh so the little trees crawl to a path other than this.
The paths end in my hands, o soul
Come to the wilderness
Where the free one lives as God.
Darkness is what I lit, and thorns is that which I see, so, come
Out of the familiar towards a different context…
We pass near flooding rivers, I say:
My beautiful soul, what I long for,
I mean rivers without a stream…
I don't know how? Or where from? .. but… the god of this wilderness knows more.
That water, other than this water,
Nourishes whoever longs for it, invites me to take another swig.
Damned, my soul, let us walk
I have no time to explain what I long for,
Darkness is what it lights, two signs with no details,
"And the lion has encountered your brother Bishr"
Then I laugh: how can my soul laugh at me twice
Then laugh once again!
It is beautiful now to love, and for things to become explicit,
We're two butterflies on a lamp under the night in the outdoors,
Perhaps we are prisoners of it,
Perhaps we are prisoners.
We melt, body and name, of pleasure
Damned, my soul,
You say to me: "What are we in every village? And what do we desire?
What we desire is more celestial than to be be named".
Two, liberated like the eagles, immemorial like the ages,
I am he who is in solitary with the demons and the demon
I touch in you an orbit of women's orbits,
For what eve that I touch two times does not desire another touch?