ترجمات أدبية

a lot of tin shacks

a limbless boy

a wingless bird

an unseen homeland

an impoverished nomad

their footprints scattered like tattoos on an ancient cobweb

sand dunes were drenched in blood             

through my window I can see a manmade apocalypse

tearing up orange trees

tearing up olive groves

to erect a wall of shame

a fence of hate built on prisonholes

perched over the horizon

usurpation of my homeland by the thieves of the century

and the crucifying of a nation of real history

redolent with the sun light into the fudged room

I peeped into the bottomless abyss of silence

I urinated in a drinking fountain

I crawled to the utopia of my stale dreams

But the rainbow stuck to me like a leech

Can you see the back of your head? said the lime-faced element

or is it only my premonition

So as to remind you that only

 the homeless becomes

A voice beyond the distance

An exile without its own space

Am I been castigated for telling the truth?

Or has the truth been locked up

In a tower block with no windows

Translucent dawn mingles with the moonlight

I’m stateless bird wandering the skies

I have closed my window and opened a balcony on a

Floodlight

Can you see me fly between chained walls?

Can you hear my plight?

Tell me, is this the way to heaven! Is this the way to ride the waves

Ben Younes Majen

العودة الى الصفحة الأولى

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الآراء الواردة في المقال لا تمثل رأي صحيفة المثقف بالضرورة، ويتحمل الكاتب جميع التبعات القانونية المترتبة عليها: (العدد :2086 الثلاثاء 10 / 04 / 2012)