Unknown Bedouins - Poem by Khalid Albudoor
Before the sun climbs over
the walls of the mud houses
unknown Bedouins return
to rest themselves in my dreams
after selling milk and honey
in the city market.
The sandy courtyard lies in fog
and the palm tree’s plaits
sway, seeming asleep
to the water flowing
in the depths of the well.
Pale pictures hunt in my head
A long, empty time has passed since I found oblivion
and back came the Bedouins
raiding my day with their sandy faces.
Where does this sound of the coffee grinder come from
that resounds through the walls of my house
where I doze
forgetting the television
flickering noiselessly in the shadows?
I know my memory has forgotten the shape of water
I have drifted like those
who wander without land
searching for stars for centuries.
Tell me, O trees, which watch over my lounge,
where these voices come from
that resound in my night.
Maybe if you concentrated
you could make out their faces
which camel driver’s song they’re singing
or which memory
they raid my house now,
with their quizzical faces,
while my sleep is nothing but
the contentions of drowsiness
on the threshold of dawn.
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