Places

Qateef, Saudi Arabia

Contributors: Raed Al-Jishi
Qateef, Saudi Arabia

« The Qateef settlement dates back to approximately 3500 B.C. and is well known for its traditional markets (suqs), such as its Fish Market. »

In the theater of time

crucified on my language,

watching the birds

falling onto my song,

stealing pieces of bread

from my melody,

what does its meaning

Prepare for me...

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I am gambling

in the Beirut night.

I need two numbers

melded together.

I never asked any dice

about its color,

where it was made,

or about its birthday

in...

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There is a holy spot

bher eyes

where angels burn their feathers

And lose their faith.

Do not blame me.

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They vanished

like our palm trees.

Ancient open windows

and old dreams.

The city forgot their names

while they held its memory

in their soul

like a candle

...

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I am a Tuareg child.

My blue turban drowns me

in the waves of sadness,

then expels me

like seeds of ivory.

O! great Tin Hinan,

your brave knight

lost his way among...

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Surrounded by the walls of memory

with no lover

and nothing to remember

I mock

my triangular cuffs

and the illusion

of hands in a circle.

An iron cage of emotions...

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The frozen water

in my eyes,

which was scratched

by a cat of time

is changing the spring

I desire,

my vinegary dreams,

and the songs that love me

into a one-...

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Unlike in Shakespeare’s verse,

I felt the summer day.

The sun burned

my nocturnal wings

and the wind tossed me away.

My steps on the milky shore,

my feathers in the sky

...
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Since the night of shooting stars, the night of travail,

the call to prayer calms me. Some people chant,

“Hale Loya.”

It was the last supper and the birth

of a certain death.

My...

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In the beginning

love was a gift from God.

Its law melts as words.

Its eve was the tone

of the letters.

Adam was not there

but a sheet containing

the fate of all...

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I stand near me

Watching that man

Come from the land far away.

We have the same lisp

In our tongue and in our memory.

He went through me,

And I didn’t notice

He stole...

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I roll up.

I smoke the pulse of the minute.

I inject my hand

with heroin of love.

No one can shut me up.

My flying poems

hide themselves

in the pack of hearts,

...

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