Flowered patios,
admired for their charm,
Andalusian patios lovingly cared for.
As new-born babies
that Andalusian women take care of
with gentleness, dedicating
their time with the same devotion
to as a baby who needs attention.
Beauty with big eyes
that shines in a blind world
to old emotions.
Patios of my Andalusia,
you sow joy in front of
the ones who feel love
for those old ladies,
whose lives flow among your cares.
I wish you would always live
Andalusian ladies!,
so that our eyes
could delight those magical patios,
full of colors and dedication.
Every flower has your name
written on it, every new wrinkle
on your face is the effort
of your everyday's passion.
Categories:
andalusian, allegory, allusion, baby, blessing,
Form: Free verse
Arabic Andalusian poem
How delicious it is
waking up from slumber
as the heat slips away
and listen to the sweet
sound of the water
in the garden's fountain
Jamil Osman Hassan
Categories:
andalusian, age, anti bullying, creation,
Form: Blank verse
Arabic/Andalusian
I sit on my veranda
the breeze is as soft as a child's
good night kiss
the town is well-lit
but moonlight is better
I think of Andalusian
Arabic poems
I tried to translate
but failed
how is it possible
to catch
the ephemeral?
Categories:
andalusian, age, april, arabic, beautiful,
Form: Blank verse
Below the wrought iron veranda,
a guitar translated the dark.
Orchids unrolled their purple tongues
to arbor the moon.
We had quarreled earlier,
now I lowered my head in your lap.
Someone was singing about the sea;
the way the sea cries for the kiss of the shore,
how the sand runs to be drowned.
A romantic idea of love, a sweet melody,
but we both understood
that make-up sex
was a much more compelling force
than poetry.
You went to lay upon on the bed.
Later, sangria washed salt from our lips.
Categories:
andalusian, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It was cooler on the veranda,
below us, a Spanish guitar
translated twilight words.
Orchids unrolled their purple tongues
for the moon to drink upon.
We had quarreled earlier,
now I lowered my head in your lap.
Somewhere, a girl
was singing an old Andalusian song
about the sea;
the way the sea cries
for the kiss of the shore,
how the sand runs to be drowned -
an overly romantic melody
yet it brought us closer.
You stood and
lifted your red dress,
your raven-haired triangle
held the scent of mercy.
Later, sangria
washed salt from our lips.
Categories:
andalusian, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It was cooler on the veranda.
Below us a guitar translated the dark.
Orchids unrolled their purple tongues
to arbor moonlight.
We had quarreled earlier,
now I lowered my head in your lap.
Someone was singing about the sea;
the way the sea cries for the kiss of the shore,
how the sand runs to be drowned -
we both understood.
You went to lie on the bed.
Later, sangria washed salt from our lips.
Categories:
andalusian, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Andalusian grapes are ripe this time
of season. Bacchus pipes his sweet tune o'er
the vineyards while soft breeze doth rustle more
in trees where mission tolls its clanging chime,
and natives wind their way up valley's climb
to slopes where hoary twisted vines now bore
large clusters; sunny place where rain won't pour
and lessen growing grapes from being prime.
Church fathers need to reach the given goal
of filling many barrels high with wine,
supporting mission's reign all feel as fine,
redeeming each lost pagan's darkened soul.
The Andalusian grapes are ripe this day,
and Bacchus pipes tune hoping many stray.
Categories:
andalusian, religious,
Form: Sonnet