Thursday, May 19, 2022 | Shawwal 17, 1443 H
clear sky
weather
OMAN
33°C / 33°C
EDITOR IN CHIEF- ABDULLAH BIN SALIM AL SHUEILI

Victim of Ravenous Nights

A Window into Contemporary Omani Literature

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


At Some Moment


On the peak of Jabal Al Akhdhar


When


The world burns out


And the secret in your eyes shines


When heaven comes close to earth


Everything becomes


Possible:


To pluck a moon


Or sleep with a star.


Alienation


The waitress


To whom I said one night,


"I crave to cry


In your bosom"


Has left the city.


And the star


That seduced me at dusk


Has died out now


At dawn.


Defunct


A redundant body


With no mission


Wings of imagination


Take him


Round an orgy of delight


Where human surplus


Prevails even over emptiness.


How can I break up this blockade?


The mind fire I can hardly quench


Is


Victim of ravenous nights.


O roofs, come closer to earth


O corners, embrace me without pity


O joggling cup,


Feed on from my wounded soul!


Ode to an Unknown Phoenician Warrior


O sand lady


Good evening,


An evening of jelly-like time


An evening of time torn in Balqees' tower


(She thinks it a sea)


An evening of myths... nothing but myths...


From them we start love, with them we end the kisses


An evening of time that will never come,


An evening


Large as treasons in One Thousand Nights,


Far as the distance


Between a prophet who lights


A match to burn his village,


And another who drowns it in decay,


Large as the neigh it lucked,


The drums of the dervishes


In the village of salt and gossip


Large as the commandments


Torn apart


By the child's hand


Shivering in the sky


Large as the languages in my mouth


Nothing there but letters of crying.


***


An evening of childhood,


O sand lady,


An evening of an epoch that's gone,


An evening of time that will never come.


What is between the cradle of breathing in and out?


A wide expanse of loss bargains me


My steeds are bargained


The questions stretch out


And the paths to death are virgin.


No prophet has yet stepped on the square of my mind.


There're the tribes grilling


Mornings in the palm of sun,


Awaiting for the impossible knight.


In cradle was tranquility


In grave was tranquility


So where do we start our wishes?


Tomorrow


All the caravans travel to the mazes


No footwear do I have but the rear of questions.


***


An evening of childhood


O sand lady


An evening of an epoch that's gone


An evening of time that will never come.


SHARE ARTICLE
arrow up
home icon