My Body Moves Like the Sea

My Body Moves Like the Sea

My body, and it’s following your steps, staggering, drunk From such a distance you wouldn’t make out my excellent breathing or the dignity of my lungs Are distances always like that? Time’s speechless daze? Alarm, deep indifference? And behind us, smooth memories stretch out free of trees The sun will do us part so we won’t see road’s end But scant is the light of a distant room The night of love and it’s shrouded by its black suit Like two eggs spilled onto two porcelain plates we quiver in our respective solitudes. Regret won’t help you as you have left your shell and that’s all done I shall close my eyes confirming your albumen in me, the incredible opportunity for a great hope that shouldn’t be fried all by itself

My heart that’s partial to death and night Two unfamiliar eyes whose kohl’s from another world from a disappointment laid to rest on a Persian rug My body moves like the sea. It soars and glitters in the dark. You come here! Come in the notes of that dust in drawn-out tunes, wide open for the dusk I’m busy with apprehension with listening to your fingers’ desire with massaging the drunk side of my chest with the singing colours of my blood gilded, scarlet Desire is so clear it has no dregs A whiff of soldiers’ sweat and air burning Regardless of your brilliant legs there’s drizzle, the freshness of body parts.

Come to My Room Come to my room tonight I have something to tell you A happy evening I plucked a flower whose spirit was so strong it could lift up my room to its garden

If you touch it, even with a feather, my heart will scream in pain Come to my room tonight even if I no longer remember you Come to my room tonight I have . . . a window of looking a simple darkness, which we witnessed the soft wind which hit my nose your index finger, which prowled the sun-bathed passage of memory despite the pale moon and its visible cracks.

Something That Can Be Postponed You love me! Isn’t this something that can be postponed Besides what’s the fuss about and when you address me enchanted and aroused, why doesn’t it occur to you that I might be pissed, that my mood is bad and I don’t want to see anyone at all.

Translated by Anton Shammas