By Aziz Qaissi, Oulmes, Morocco
That long silhouette at whose end falls the wing
And the shadows strange, having come, should ring
You are the overlord of that fine string
Keep the shadow still and the silhouette not to fall.
***
Between the inks I bleed
And the words I draw
The existence burn or feed
Upon the dawn of terms I need
Try not to be treasonable
Sail in that illusion
Sail …
Sail …
***
Jostling with these angles
Gapping that shapeless dusk
The mother earth offers jungles
To the prisoners set free
And curses my words under the tree
***
Lift that cursed sign of your collapse
These whispers I used to hear
And try to get near,
Are melting with these lies I fear
***
The earth turns around the sun
Turns…
Turns…
And I - around this falling silhouette - turn
I turn…
And turn…
***
That long silhouette at whose end the mask falls
And between that fake face
And that illusion I embrace
Oppression in lost kingdoms reigns.
Edited by Chokri Omri