Abir Zaki / Saoudita
عبير زكي / السعودية

جنوني هويتي

تعبت من الهروب من رأسي
تعبت من الاختباء وراء هذه الروح الشريرة
لأرى أبدية
روح الانعتاق والحرية

جنوني
هو هويتي
هو حقيقتي
هو معجزتي
التي إليها استسلمت
لأكشف الأسرار
التي تم إخفاؤها

جنوني
هو هويتي
دون رحمة
يتربع في قلبي
حيث مصيري وأسراري
يسيّرها الحب
تتحدى الكراهية

جنوني
هو هدوء
إعصاري
حيث تكتنفه برودة
حمم البركان
هو في الجسد الذي يحمل
بذور اللاطهارة

My Insanity is my Identity…

tired of running away from my head
disappearing into this reckless soul
reflecting my eternity
of a spirit that can only be sensed free…

my insanity
is my identity
is my reality
is the miracle
I surrender
revealing the mysteries
that had been concealed…

my insanity
is my identity
mercilessly rests
in a heart
where secrecy, and fate
driven by love
confronted by repulsion…

my insanity
is in the calmness
of my hurricane
in the coolness of its lava
is in the flesh that carries
the seed of impurity…

المرأة داخل الحجاب

الخديعة
والظلام
والريبة
والخوف والكراهية

وراء الحجاب
غلاوة الروح
والنضارة
وراء الحجاب
الحب
والدفء والحنان

يزعمون
أنها من اليسير أن ترمي حجابها
ونسوا أنها
هي العذراء في خدرها
هي العروس
هي في قمة رشدها
هي الإلهة الفاتنة

يزدرونها كامرأة
وهي النفوذ
وهي الغموض
وهي الإحباط
وهي العمل والخجل

يرونها وقودا لنيران جهنم
وهي الخطيئة الأولي
ولم يدركوا أبدا
أقنعة التقاليد والعادات
ولا يرون سوى الحجاب
يضللهم ويطمئنهم في آن

وآ حسرتاه!
كان عليهم أن يلوموا أنفسهم
وقد نسوا
عندما تتفتح الأزهار
تينع الثمار
وتنشر جمالها ورحيقها وأريجها

لقد نسوا
ثروة المعرفة
الموسيقى
الحصاد والمحصول
ذلك كله
بفضلها
تتدفق وتعود إلى عشها

لقد نسوا
أنها وراء المحراث
في كل الحقول
حيث تنبت الخضرة
عندما تنثر بذورها
وفوق كل ذلك
قد نسوا
أن اشتياقها وحنينها
ورباطها الروحي
ورفقتها
توجد حيث ترنو قلوبهم
وتتحول كلماتهم أشعارا
وأغنيات

The Woman in Veil…

The façade,
darkness
doubt
fear, and hate…

Beneath,
precious spirit
verdant soul
affection,
and warmth…

They think it is easy to cast off her veil
and forget that she\'s
virgin,
bride,
elder,
and the Goddess…

They belittle her as a woman
the powerful,
mysterious,
frustrated,
the practical and the shy…

They connect her to the Hell\'s flame,
for the first sin
never knew with their engaging masks
of tradition, costumes and believes
all they see, the veil
to beguile and reassure them…

Alas! !
they must carry the blame…
they forgot that
when Flowers blossom
fruits grown
their beauty, nectar, and fragrance
are her own…

they forgot
the fortune of knowledge,
of music
of all harvest and crops
is her grace
flowing and resting from every nest...

they forgot
behind the plough
of the fields
all the greenery
is when she sowed the seed…

and the most of all
they did forget
that for her longing, and
her spiritual union
and her communion
found where their heart belong
and their words became poetry
and to songs…....

يقظتها

في غمرة فزعي ومخاوفي
في غمرة غضبي وجنوني
توقفت عن الحياة
تجمدت
أصبحت بلا حراك
لا أدري
أين دربي؟
من خلال وجودي

بعدئذ،
ناداني صوت من الأعماق
صاح بي
توسلّني
أن
\'كفى\'
كفى
نزاعا
كفى
صياحا
كفى
نزالا
لبقاء أمري

وأخيرا
كهدوء طفل
في أحلى لحظات الهدوء
عدت
إلى صمت دموعي
ونظرت إلى العالم
بعينين اثنتين
أحدق في
صحوتي
داخلي

Her Awakening…

In the midst of all my fears,
in the midst of my lunacy
and madness
I ceased,
dead, lifeless
in my track and path
throughout my being…

Then,
a voice in my so called head
cries out
and pleas
ENOUGH
enough
fighting,
crying
pressuring
struggling to hold on
in fears….

Finally,
like a child’s silence
in one of his serene moments
I wink back to my silent tears
and look at the world
through new pair of eyes
staring at the new awakening in me…

لوليتا من داخلك

أهو عمرك؟
أهي تجاعيدك؟
أم هو شعرك الأشيب؟
أم هو أوان التغيير عندك؟
أم هو سحرك وألاعيبك؟
أم هي عبقرية التغيير؟
هل هو البيات الشتوي؟
إني أرى لوليتا تسري في جسدك
كالمخدر
هي أقوى من كل اكتشافات العالم

كنت متيّما بسحرها
كنت متيما بنورها في حياتك
كنت مهووسا برغباتك
مهووسا بانتصاب قضيبك
مهووسا بحلاوتها
تشعل ألسنة اللهب في قلبك
كنت قد دخلت جنتها
تذوقت كل ثمارها
أو أنك جنيت الحامض من عنبها

يا صديقي
كنت كطفل حاز على دمية
سئم منها
اجتز رأسها
وألقاه بعيدا
لقد انتهزت ضعفها
وقلّة حيلتها
استوليت عليها بسحرك
استنفذت أريجها
الذي لا يزال متبرعما في بتلاتها
وفضضت بكارتها
ورميتها
والآن أنت
أصبحت كشجرة مهجورة
لا تزال تزهو في الربيع
وتحلم ....

Lolita in You…

Is it your age?
Is it your wrinkles and gray hair?
Or is it the stage when you want
to make some change?
Or is it your exquisite charm,
and ingenious turn of phase?

Or is it the winter sleep?

I can sense the Lolita in you
Like a drug, more powerful than any
Discovered or devised…

You have been possessed by her spell
By her light in your life
Obsessed by the fire in your loin
By its sweetness that trembles the flames in your heart...

You have entered her garden
To taste the plums she offered
But my friend,
Was it really sweet
Or sour sweet what you have obtained?

My friend,
Like a child who takes a doll
And threw its head away
You took advantage of her disadvantage
And use that in sway...
You smelled her fragrance
Which was still kept in petals
And you tasted the plum
Which you threw its kernel away…

And now, you are
Like a lonesome plum tree
Which is still blooming in the early spring
To dream…

قلب شاعر

هناك شاعر يصوغ من كلمات بسيطة
ليس موسيقى كلمات
وإنما معاني وأفكار
تخرج من قلبه وعقله
ولكن إن لم تدركي أشعاره
سوف لن يخذلك
لأنه هو سلامك
هو التوحد في داخلك
إنه هو الكلمة التي تحيين بها

The Heart of a Poet

In simple words lies a great poet
not just the sound of his words
but the meanings and ideas
that vocalizes his heart and mind...

But if you fail to find him
he will not fail you
for
he is your peace
he is the oneness
he is the words that you live by...

الذهب الأسود

لقد أرهبت سلامة عقلي
وإنسانيتي ، كما شئت ..
صنعت البنادق والقنابل
واشتريت العبيد وبعتهم بسرور
لقد ملكت أدمغتهم وحرفت عقولهم
ملكت أثيرهم وماءهم ونساءهم بتعجرف!
لقد ملكت البيت والجريمة
تسلب وتسرق وتحتال وتقتل بفخر !
لقد امتلكت الثروة
الفخر المزعوم والازدهار المزعوم
وببغض متجهّم !
وتابعت إمداد العالم بالدماء
وتهبّ نسائم فحمك عليه
لكن الشئ الوحيد
غير المعروف ولا يمكن امتلاكه من قبلك
هو مهد طفل صغير
حيث تتمدد الحقيقة تحت وسادته
حيث يحلم بعصفور ذهبي في عالمه الصغير
ليرجع الفرحة والسلام
في هذا العالم المُثار والمفعم بالأرق !

Black Gold…

You terrorized
my reason
my sanity
my humanity, as you pleased…

You made the bombs,
made the guns
bought the slaves
sold them, delightedly!

You owned their brains,
twist their mind
owned their air
water, and dame arrogantly!

You owned the “house”
you own the crime
you rob and steal
cheat and murder, proudly!

You owned the wealth
the so called pride
the so called prosperity
all in black, cursedly!

You keep feeding the world blood
you keep breezing the world in coal,
but the sole thing
that can’t even be known to be owned
by owners like you
is the crib of a child
where the truth lies under his pillow
where he dreams
the golden bird
in his little world
to restore joy and peace

In this agitated, restless world!

إحياء

روحي مكسوةٌ بالغيوم
جاهزةٌ لعاصفةِ الرعدِ
كي تشعلَ لهيبي
وتحكم لياليَّ

تلمعُ النجومُ
عبر ملاءةٍ حريرية،
الومضاتُ الذهبيةُ في عينيكَ
تتوهجُ ثم تندلقُ فيَّ...

يقعُ على بشرتي،
يقبلُ روحي،
يداعب، يمشط، يمتع
يصرخ كقتال أسطوري
؟؟؟؟ في بهجة باذخة
يشرب رضاب عذبة المذاق،
لتقطع العطش
كما تبعث أنفاسك وجودي

Revival

My soul
covered in clouds,
ready for
the thunderstorm
to feed my flames,
and ruling my nights…

Stars glitters
across the silken sheets,
the golden gleam in your eyes
blazing, slipping inside my needs …

Falling against my skin,
kissing my soul,
tickling, teasing, and pleasing
screaming like an epic fight
blaring in an excessive delight
drinking the sweetest tasted saliva,
to cease the thirst
as your breath revive my being….

Chatting With the Moon...

I was provoked with the moon in a delicious chat
\'Let them fear the power that gave them live\'
Afire…Burnings
Tenderness …Affections
Passion
Ablaze with secret delight
knowing the power of womanhood…

She has been surrounded by her inner being
With some charm, elegance, and humor
She may be hidden, but certainly present
She thinks, works, invents, discovers
In strife, she gains strength
In oppression, she knows her right
Searching always for the Self, unexposed
The power of her darkest secrets
Her glances flashes across her mascara
To paint her mystery and mystique…

Let the silence of her voice outcry
For they had stolen her womanhood
They humiliated her for the tongue she had
They persecuted her for her believes
They circumcised her sexuality
They killed her womanhood
forbade her to express her condolences…

She was expected to submit to them
To support them
As a daughter, sister, wife, and mother
To learn knitting, and entertaining
Look pretty and nothing else…

They were preparing her grave
Threatening her to feel the passionate blood
Under her soft skin
Forbidding her to touch her breasts of power…

They forgot that when God created the universe
He created her to create the human kind
He made her the mother of the earth
The mistress of the moon
The passion of the sun
And the tenderness of the air
He made her
The balance of the world…
My Insanity is my Identity…

tired of running away from my head
disappearing into this reckless soul
reflecting my eternity
of a spirit that can only be sensed free…

my insanity
is my identity
is my reality
is the miracle
I surrender to
revealing the mysteries
that had been concealed…

my insanity
is my identity
mercilessly rests
in a heart
where secrecy, and fate
driven by love
confronted by repulsion…

my insanity
is in the calmness
of my hurricane
in the coolness of its lava
is in the flesh that carries
the seed of the impurity…
Who Am I...?

People ask \'where are you from? \'
Coming from Asia, Europe, and Africa,
I tell them, I am from nowhere
I know I have to start from somewhere…

I am the river that flows love,
The mountain that rises chaos,
The morning sun that shines hopes and dreams…

I am the history of sorrows and pains,
Joys and laughers,
Failures and triumphs…
the revolution of change…

I am the battle that cries for freedom,
the cry of liberty…

I am the living seas of waking dreams,
Where a wrecked ship of my life esteems…

I am the poem,
The lines as they speak,
The words that I seek…

I am the sound, the only sound
Of my voice that I entreat…
Freedom I Shout!

like my poems
using no grammar
nor punctuation
like a free verse
which do not rhyme…

like a captive bird
takes a flight
for a life denied
has just begun…

unlike my noblest dream
which is often lost
for my own good refrains
they cry by…

for I am enslaved,
my freedom taken away
from me
in the name of moral right….

no right to choose,
nor to decide,
no right to sin
nor to virtue…

freedom I shout…!
my binding chains
must be undone
to reach out and touch
the spirit of my golden
moments gone by…

whispers fill my heart
stirring in passion
teaching me the way
to carry on
my battle of freedom
but
not for the freedom which isn\'t free
I shout for the freedom that’s free….
DAUGHTER of the earth...

as I lay down on my knee
I stare into the crystal
limpid water beneath the dock
of a deep bay
crying with strength
speaking the voice
unheard for so long…

through my veins
run the blood of ages
for every life has been lived
filled with pleasure and pain
truth and lies
sunshine and rain…

from the womb of my rebirth
many quits, fights and joys
have been shredded
held not allowing to breathe
through passing years
where my hair outgrows
showing my inner mystery
when the sun of my smile
the grace of my A Silent Voice….

Alas!
Mothers of Palestine and of Iraq
Mothers of Sabra and Shatila
of Guatemala, of Nicaragua
of Colombia, and Bolivia…
Mothers of Peru
Mothers of Soweto, of Thule
Mothers of Eskimo, of Pashtu
Mothers of the hunger-striking Kurds
and Mothers of Israel....

They silenced your melody
and make you sing in misery..

They want you to
sing in grief, pain and fear
and visit your loved ones in prisons in tear...

They want you to
count the bullets passing by your window
and bury your children under the rubbles of your mellow...

They want you to
have nightmares of flames and destruction
and cry for your loneliness and dreams for construction
enduring poverty, humiliation and degradation...

Mothers of Eternal Grace, be happy
in this so called MOTHER’S DAY!
I am wrapped and enriched by the silence
my silence permits the massacre of an entire people[s] …
my silence is prize for the injustice and the oppression…
my silence is against human rights
against children rights and animal rights,
and even nature\'s right
my silence sacrifices embryos that are not yet born
my silence is hypocrisy
is unjust, is inhuman...

And all what I can offer you
the MOTHER above all MOTHERS
in this Mother\'s Day,
is my SILENCE!
for your tears fall like razor sharp
stabbing deep down my silent heart
with everlasting
Scars…..

Arabian Night…

My Shahriyar,
allow the daughter of the noblest
a single night from your thousands’
traveling through India, Persia, China
through silky routes
not to find reprieve and hospitality
but your soul where your honor resides
and the heart where your passion occupies…

I wore your image and fame
my heart fitted to be your shrine
hoping to gain one smile
while dwelling in your heart
Dreaming to feel your arms around me
keep haunting me like the air
breathing inside you
I lean as close to your soul with my sound…

My Shahriyar,
your heart beats with mine whenever I breathe
my lips can’t resist rushing to yours anymore
as well as my eyes can no longer hide
dreaming to be shut as if to be kissed
your moist mixing with mine
while lying intertwined…

Feeling like Aphrodite, falling
pulling downward, worshiping love
to the immortal or to the mortal
till when it is well-known to thy…

My love is a living, breathing reality that keeps growing
I am changed by your love, my Shahriyar,
For both become isolated of
inspirations, challenges, triumphs, and insight…

Yes, my Shahriyar,
This night is a gift, from everlasting moment
of which it is destined
to live in your heart eternally…

Bitter Taste…

When the treacherous East begins to color
with a rosy red morn
another day is born
in a purple dress with flowers
a little girl in sandals is walking
as the birds pour their joyous songs
on the muttering trees
Free …
where she, a life long slave, must be
caged in her harvesting coffee
for the princes’ commerce