A Week of a Man From Our Time
Monday:
He sharpens his dream
By the hone of the illusion,
Under his arm
He put roses
And a bit of of life's basils
Then goes to his work.
--------
Tuesday:
He says to the beloved:
Tomorrow, when the dreams tree leaves
On our stature,
And the light leapt smiling
In Our eyeballs
Humbly will come the sea
And give us its waves.
--------
Wednesday:
From the breast of the clouds he suckles
Five songs,
And by the stone
He slaughters the weathercock.
--------
Thursday:
He irrigates his memoirs
With the water of trouble,
In the evening
He expectes to be kidnapped.
--------
Friday:
When he comes to the cafe
He drinks from his cup
A quantity of eulogies
About the members of his tribe,
And when he goes out
He buries his misgivings in his pockets.
--------
Saturday:
He goes to the city bar
And behind him he pulls
The chariot of the grief,
Instills in the field of his body
Seedlings of the wine
To make himself melted.
--------
Sunday:
His feet take him
Where the nightmares of the road are,
His eyes lurk among the passers-by.
Copyright © Mustapha Maaroufi | Year Posted 2013
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