Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
The Metaphor of Light
I shall pen rain,
though the spring of clouds runs dry;
I shall pen a spring,
though born of a blossom
that I see only in a dream.
I have grown weary of my drought,
perched beneath the summer of men,
of autumn’s age praying
the long night’s prayer
within my chest.
I shall pen dawn,
though from the metaphors of a sun,
refusing to tilt in morning,
I shall turn my pen toward the east,
hoping a single beam returns
with the flutter of gentle delight,
weary of the final stretch
of broken-winged night.
I shall pen color,
pellucid with the ink of rain,
succulent, dewy with the blossom’s face,
promising, and pleasing with the dawn’s shade.
Perhaps the poem shall bloom
in night’s own hands,
unveiling other suns.
Mustafa Abdulmalek Al-Sumaidi, Yemen
Letters of the Clouds
All the tears I shed yesterday
I have entrusted to the clouds today,
Hoping some gentle wind
Might carry them to your sky
On a day not far away
But before they pour down on you
What my eyes have bled–a bitter, briny sea
My heart gently whispers to you:
Fear not these shadowed waves,
Even if the water overflow
Just open the gates of your heart
To letters gathered through time,
From a sea serene and endless,
Telling of the boundless love
In the deep recesses of my heart,
Still aflame with you
To the very brink of a flood.
And know with certainty,
This shall not be the end
I will let the wind carry the tale
Of all that remained unspoken
In letters of absence.
Mustafa Abdumalek Al-Sumaidi, Yemen
