The wise man said:
Happiness is to become a fish
and enter the sea of Man.
his companion asked:
A small or a big fish
and the wise man replied:
That is the problem.

*

Seeing his subjects naked the king remarked:
How resplendent my people are
in their beautiful clothes.

*

Seeing his shadow on the ceiling
the clown said:
What happens is always the opposite.

*

The itinerant said:
Though the forest is inhabited by beasts
we slept in peace.
The householder replied:
Though our cities are inhabited by humans
we are apprehensive about beasts.

*

With their shadows flowing like ink,
the trees asked:
Who writes us on the road?

*

The lover said to the beloved:
I'll bring you to a forest of silver,
to pastures of gold, and there
you will find your dwelling.
The beloved replied:
And how shall we be protected from wild animals?
With silver and gold, my dear.

*

My father used to say:
One bullet makes a dead man
but one thought makes thousands alive.
When my father died, clutching his unique thought
which he fired at people like a bullet,
no-one came to his funeral.

*

The great poets
eat the minor poets
and starve.

*

He likes everyone
and no-one.

*

Seeing his image in the mirror
the journalist said:
Silence is silver,
Speech, however, is gold.

*

The public speaker said:
How marvellous our language is
which permits us to erase the bad wrong
with the wrong right!

*

I longed to stand firm on the sea
the way I do on the land
to walk upon whales, over totems
and those who have been slain -
but I drowned
and found myself here on the seabed
with whales, totems and the slain.
Of the ships I see only the keels;
of birds, only their shadows;
of humans, only their voices;
                           of the water, merely water.
 

                                                 1994
 
 

SHADOWS

Shadows talk to me in the evening
Shadows
I talk to them in the evening
Shadows
I shake hands with them
They shake hands with me
Shadows
Shadows
Shadows
I walk with them
coming and going
down a long path
Shadows flow
on my feet
on my palms
to emerge suddenly from a wall confronting me
Where did this wall come from?
What explains these shadows which push towards me?
Where are they from?
Do I push them
or do they . . .?
Do I hug them or they me?
In their embrace for ages
absent for ages
the clay weighing their feet down
they will return
lean towards me
sit on my bed
dolorous
no patting an eyelid
tight-lipped
no palm outstretched
O the shadows
these rocks make

                                                 2002
 
 
 

THAT DEATH

I would see him in a nearby road
I remember
his hurried step,
the mistrust in his eyes
when he turned,
his frown when he is smiling
the position he took by the wall
his eyes
his eyes
meeting mine in the crowd.
At night
when I opened the windows
to let in the summer
his whistling would surprise me
as he came
closer
and closer
In great haste
I would shut all the windows
his whistle dying away.
I am still trembling
when he knocks in the morning
- Who is it?
I open the shutters
- Who is it?
I go down the road
returning home
in a sweat
run for the cover of my bed.

                                                 2002 
 
 

GAME

Let us begin the game 
You are me, and I am you 
I shall put flowers on your grave 
and you will put flowers on mine. 
I shall enter the gate of the night 
and you will enter the gate of the day 
There we shall meet
not knowing each other. 
You will say: 
"You are me."
I shall say
"I am you."
We shall laugh like children

                                                 2002
 
 
 

Translated by the author with his daughter Sara Halub and revised by the British poet David Kuhrt. Republished here from their publication in Banipal No 18.