Glory to Music
Glory to music!
Whenever a stranger or drunkard cries
Glory to music
Whenever a poet or lover groans
I often see myself in cafes
With gloomy clouds and poignant music.
There
In the café corner
Peeking at me a pseudo-cultured damsel
Behind her huge glasses.
I hate arty women
As I hate critics and narks.
Yet whenever a breast trembles
Or a knee bends
Saliva startles me between my lips
Like children and the aged.
Where are these round poems taking me
And those old fashioned sorrows?
I’m the deposed king
The armless poet
I often see myself in cafes
With gloomy clouds or poignant music.
Leave I Shall Not
Burn like an inferno
O earth!
I shall but embrace history more
And kiss the regiments of the first conquest!
O mountains of Oman
Till when will you crucify
This paleness on my forehead?
O desert of Oman
Till when will you fill my pockets with sand
And cast agony
In my eyes?
Will you force me to leave?
No
Leave I shall not!
More melancholy, O Mother,
I will not leave till
My bones flow upon your mountains
One after another!
Innocence
From the journey’s first moment
I used to imagine
With child-like innocence
That planes’ bathrooms
Were open to the world!
O travelers
Is there a moment
More delicious and delectable
Than ... upon this chaos
From a height of 40, 000 feet?!
Muscat’s Night
Nothing remains from this night
Nothing.
But dogs barking and writhing
From hunger or pain
A monk warning about Doomsday
A drunkard vomiting in a toilet
Beds
Creaking from lust
And the rest of it
A tiny moon in the sky
And a poet on earth
Everyone betting on the choking of
The other.
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