Drunken memory
Another Love
13 December,2014
Drunken memory
Drunken memory
14 December,2014

From Lebanon to Lebanon

Drunken memory

ghada alsamman

From Lebanon to Lebanon

I fly to you from cities of the gray fog full riddled of my wounds and just when I immerse my body in your sea’s water then I get healed and back young filly that can run another centuries above the steppes of white paper

With you Lebanon, I forget that I’m convicted with death as all people, in the fountains of your mountains; there is water of immortality and permanent youth

With you, I forget that grass will grow someday in my fragile thoracic cavity that pulsing now with your love

With you, I forget that it will not remain of my fingers that typing letters of love for you except some naked bones where ants run, and the cold water punctuated them in the evening of a Parisian tomb

With you, I `m turned from woman to cloud

I knew that I also have tears of joy, only after I have stepped your airport after seven centuries or seven seconds of separation while my passport claims that it takes seven years

I thought that candles only cry in the evening until I realized the meaning of your parting so what can I offer a present for you in the feast?

I present you with forests with trees didn’t replaced with forests of concrete and roads clean of rebels

And national Zorbian Kalashnikov

I present you with men do what they say far away of political carnivals’ masks and tango passions; a forward step and backward century…

Men talking about agreement without hypocrisy

I present you with women without fears of muzzle and whips without any fear in front of Shahriyarian peacocks; women ask for the right of mistake not sin

I present you with houses that their bricks never heard prisoner’s moans, schools never converted to barracks of warship, gardens with no mines where children laugh among its flowers not playing with skulls, houses of worship where prayers never hold except for the great creator god without any spokesmen of his name, and bakeries haven’t become barricades of hostility selling poisoned bread

I present you with cafés of writers have walls with no ears, councils of dialogue without lonely rooster nor an inspiring intellectual hero

I present you with lovers for a cornice beach hiding the stars in their eyes while they are gulping coffee, and the colorful butterflies fly in their pocket as it was a space, and their chests if full of sparrows singing tunes which Mozart simulates them in splendid art thefts

I present you with the moonlit beaches without drug smuggler, and airports without hijackers

I present you in the feast with peace of mind instead of money, I gift you forgetfulness, wakefulness in time, and I wish I had gifted you with the most expensive thing in the universe

Freedom … freedom … freedom

But freedom only refuses to be canned and grated with colorful silk ribbons to be gifted

Freedom is not to be gifted, and it should grow on the sands of your beaches, mountains and valleys so will you take care of it?

?And what will you gift for your lovers like me

?A bullet

Winter 1998

Translated by Mohammed Yahia

أضف تعليق

Ghada Al-Samman
Ghada Al-Samman
أنا حمامة وديعة ترفرف مزهوة بثوب الحرية الناصع بعيداً..بعيداً وعالياً..عالياً عن دنس الصيادين
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