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. »

An autistic girl

searching for the spring

between the black clouds—

her braids are made

from a shining rose branch.

Her dreams are made

from a shining rose.

But who...

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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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The language of love

is spontaneous,like me,

like a painting of a child.

I used to draw my house

on the left side of the paper.

My house was so small,

neither doors nor...

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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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We have a modest tradition

of hospitality.

Our Arabian coffee

doesn’t need sugar

or cardamom

to be tasty or delightful

just like the smile

we serve

to those...

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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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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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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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I drink

the low-fat morning death.

I begin it by eating dates.

How many times did

the dates immigrate us?

How many times did death strip

the conscience of silence...

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Tarut Fortress & Qatif City
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It is my right

to love as she wants it,

to get ripped by desire

when her necklace scatters

the tears of pearls.

It is a riot,

and it is my right

to love and die

...
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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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