Tuesday, March 29, 2005

شرق في الليل

كنت أتسكع مع ذاكرتي
مليئا بالأشباح
وكهولة طفولتي
لا تعنيني غيمة في سماء
ولا إمرأة عبرت شرودي
أعدّ السيارات التي تزأر
وأراقب السائقات اللواتي
يتزين أمام إشارات المرور
أمشي ثُمّ أمشي
أرشف الوحل الذي تكدس
على شفاه طفولتي
:ألوح كعجوز صار كالمنفى وأذكر
أنا أتيت من الشرق
ْمن الجدران
من الناس الذين يجترون الصلوات ويموتون خوفا
من الأغطية المفروضة على رؤوس النساء
من الرجال الذين يحرّمون
الأشياء التي نحلم بها
ويفعلونها خلف الستائر
من جمع المذكر "غير السالم"
من أقفاص الطغاة الذين
يؤمنون أنهم سيعيشون "إلى الأبد
من التلال المكتئبة
من الأزهار الخائفة
من رجال يتروجون أربع نساء
ويزورون بيوت البغاء في الليل
من التنفس بشروط
من الشرب بإذن
من هناك أتيت
حيث الهرة تخاف من الفأر
الأفعى تهرب من الصرصار
المرأة تتفحص سلامة بكارة إبنتها
الشرطي يبيع رُخصا للنوم
من اليأس الذي يلفُّ القلوب وينام


لندن 6 حزيران 2003

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Guevara: moments for tiredness

Smiling to the wind


Smiling for the wind
Originally uploaded by ghiasaljundi.

Friday, March 25, 2005

مالذي سيحدث؟

ماالذي سيحدث
العاشقون يرحلون مع الفراشات
الأم تركض خلف أيام أولادها
الأب يعصر الزيتون للغزاة
والعالم:
أنهار من حروب...

في الصباح فطرنا الأناشيد
تغذينا في الظهيرة أصوات المؤذنين
وفي المساء شربنا التاريخ وتناقشنا:
من البيضة تأتي الحروب
ومن الحروب يأتي رجال بلا قلوب
يغتصبون نساء يركبن الغيوم
ويرحلوا
حاملين سيوفهم وقلوب البلاد


لندن 5/12/04

دمشق

سلالم من الموت
ياسمين مغطى بالغبار والنهايات
وتجاعيد لكلمات خائفة

يسكب العمر فضلات حزنه
في نهرها الموسمي
ويختبىء في بردها
جرذان الليل المغمورين
بالجواسيس والأوبئة

لندن 29/11/04

بلادي

هناك بلادي
حيث صديقات وأصدقاء

يعيشون بتوابيت

والموتى يستحمون بحريّتهم

SAVE0000
Originally uploaded by ghiasaljundi.
moments

Friday, March 18, 2005

Love

By all ways
I have gone out of god’s hands
Out of its weight
Closed down
The wounds of love
The trenches of hatred
Over the face
Of the quiet lake
Where the Moon
Was shinning
Down to the depth.

I have the wish
Of getting out of the circle
Of madness and discarding.
Oh Love
You are the lines
On the curved pages
The colours of thin strings
Where my dreams always hang on.
Nothing else
Has given me
The sense of liberty
The shelter for senses
The ideas of coming
Oh Love
You are
The last letters
In the dictionary of this falling life.
By your lines
My soul has learned
The spelling of ecstasy
And the mood of absence


London 7.03.05

Around the Cities of Escape

From country to another
I crossed the barriers of hope
broke
The language of silence
That wave of unbearable thoughts
The current of unthinkable waves
And the borders of the artificial guards.

Oh, that city
Holding on its lips
The weight of Exiles
And the camps of losing
In its hands.
Now..
Yesterday..
And tomorrow..
All cities have the bitterness of living
The bills of nothingness
And the holy words
Of burnt Bibles



A city

I am the crowd in your eyes
The noise in your ears
The ash on your dreams
The dust on your life
whenever I try
To cover the sins of my heart
Whenever I seek to travel
Away from my lies
I find myself
The citizen of illusions

London 4.3.05

Here or There

Here or there
Where I am wasting
Words I learned
From my childhood
Before I knew
About money
Sex
And wars…
Here or there
I count the steps
The river jumps
To reach its end
Here or there
I think of the end
Of the tail of days
Days which have no meanings or colours
Colours which are mixed with Vain
Vain!! Which grows faster than wheat
Wheat produced in factories
Rather than fields
Here
In the sky
With gloomy calendar
And clowns
Inviting you to Banks
Explaining the importance of insurance
And American Democracy
The glorious times of English Mines
Where miners had
Prosperity and pubs
Here in the greyness of politics and business
There are honours for native bankers

for the Highness of Streling Pound
And Imperial War Museums…..


London 3/12/04

Thursday, March 17, 2005

September

At last
September has come
some birds
Some cold
Some “nothingness”
Some tears
Some sudden hope
Come on a horse of smoke
Melts away
Like salt in a pot
At last September has come
With clouds grey like news


G.Aljundi
01/09/03
If I forget you, oh Jerusalem
Let my right hand wither
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my moth
If I do not remember you,
If I do not set Jerusalem above my highest you

Psalm 137

Snow in London

i open the window
to see a bird
playing in the snow
when it once visits
London by mistake

I open the window
my love has flawn to the wind
I have no wings
to follow it again
the bird has gazed at me
maybe a story in its mind
how could i invite
a bird enjoyes the snow

to the darkness of absence

Sunflowers

Once
Summer is leaving
And sky is giving up its brightness
To the clouds
Sunflowers' yellow eyebrows
Fall to the wind
And instead of looking to the highness
Sadly, they gaze at the earth ….



On train to Bordeaux,France
05/09/03

When I was a child

When I was a child
Not very little
I always wanted to go to the mosque
Not to pray for a god I did not know
But to count how many prayers were there
I always had to sit in the back
Because I was a child
I enjoyed seeing
People standing, kneeling and suddenly sitting
I thought
It was just a sport
Later my mother laughed and told me

what was all of that sport
I did not like that kind of sport


G.Aljundi
Moreton-In-Marsh
24/08.03

I need you

I need you
More than I love you
But I love you
More than I need you

where my heart stands?

I love you
Like a boat
To cross a mad river
Or like a train
To arrive early
To a lost station

like a sun
Makes my soul warm


G.Aljundi
London 13.01.02

Night

Night
Circles the sky With strings of fear.
Strangers for the corners of time,
Passers-by for the angles of wind.
I pour my silence Into a dark bottle
And drink the ancient sadness
From the ancient cellar.
Oh, how can we bring down
The towers of dignity
And kill the seasons of waiting,
Throw away the furniture of reality?
All days are Introductions to the empty volumes
On the shelves of horizon,
Topic sentencesTo the absence!
Ghias Aljundi, Oxford, 27-2-05