Monday, May 23, 2022 | Shawwal 21, 1443 H
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OMAN
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EDITOR IN CHIEF- ABDULLAH BIN SALIM AL SHUEILI

Torture me no more!

A Window into Contemporary Omani Literature

The following are translations of poems by the Omani poet Hilal Al Hajri (1968-) from his first collection titled: “Night Is Mine”, (Muscat: 2006):


Letters to the Woman of 10: 30 pm


1-


Torture me no more,


You my darling,


The sand


And the moon.


This sacred color pierces me to slavery.


And when I come close


To your eyes' pure water


You will be


Luscious and shiny


Like the saliva of a candle.


Only is the desert wide enough


For my shivering fingertips


While I pluck the sweat of delight


From your forehead.


When you stroke my forests of madness


With your soft hands


An old sorrow and a rootless gasp


Seep from my heart.


Like a tent


Of chieftains and the weary old


I bowed on your bloody dunes


Perhaps


Seeking my ancient childhood


Or my nipple-like salient future.


I bowed then


With enough innocence and defiance


To seduce this night.


But


I'm encircled by the blue spear


Hurled by the fires


Of rejection and desire


Coming from your lungs.


After I return desperate


Like Jesus


From the primordial soup


Of love and loss


I plead with the voice of Fairoz


To find a warm bower


Amidst the gliding tears


On your virgin cheeks.


2-


At 10: 30


This night


And every night


I go past your blue heart


Quietly


Like a breeze


Pale


Like a shadow.


My forehead trickles


Anguish and gloom


From the depths of alienation.


I resort to you with fear


Like a Bedouin to his sword


To rub off


A fluff of sadness


That floats on my heart


Like thickets on hills.


3-


Guide me


To your body's peak.


The flood's coming again


The flood


Coming


Again.


I don't want


To die


Drowned in tears


And daydreams.


4-


Your golden cheek,


Your seed of wheat


Is no longer


My first concern.


From now on


I'll swim like an Omani sailor


Down to East Africa,


To your red-dew wetted hair,


To


Your bosom rebellious


Like the pirates' coast!


I am


The grandson


Of thwarted desires


And the passions of Bedouin


Away from their wives


Since the first conquests.


5-


I won't read to you


Any of my poems


Today


You won't hear the melody


Of your grace in my poems.


I'll rather keep my eyes wide all night.


Grinding my teeth.


Like a dead person


With my tears


I'll count the sand grains


I placed beneath your left breast


In the middle of a night!


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