Song to the Woman of the Harem
before the prelude that is born, he smiles.
I have followed the pilgrimage of the Sun,
With the look lost in the doubts,
I allow to escape my loner he/she waits,
Flying which rapacious bird,
Free, always free for the skies,
They are my dreams!
Let that your heart muffles of emotion
I fear at night,
Waiting that the moon
Spread their nets and capture so many stars,
And die the sky.
It will arrive this way the day,
Bringing to the new Sun,
Wandering mention for the space.
I pray to Allah,
I yearn to be free,
as the wind that he/she comes from the North.
In silence I wonder:
The gods don't usually listen the woman?
Allah, this always with you.
Each dawn in wanting to reach the illusion,
That my heart of female lover,
When the silhouettes knit my dreams.
The wind spreads my words,
Seeds of pollen,
They fly and they fly
Until to bite your earth and to bury me in your meat,
My lover, great " muruwa ",
Whose fruit with your image,
he/she will be born tomorrow.
You are the life and the descendant.
to the gods!
they seem to be deaf,
did it arrive to their soul my sentence?
Do I ask?
That it is male!
or she will be a new slave as me.
In the bedrooms of the harem.
Let that your soul sings a tomorrow.
My tears that the sadness paints,
They rotate for my father's sterile earth,
Tramped by the sheep,
That they eat of the scarce moss of the oasis.
The only inheritance that you/they left,
It is the deserted width,
For where they left to the but there,
Without before to sell me for some how many currencies.
he smiles that the light of the dawn kisses your fine face.
My poured tears,
They watered the seeds
I sprout the earth,
returning the life to the district.
Covering my face with the veil,
I admire to the new day that he/she promises to be better.
I feel that I exist,
And I want the love.
I will already come my lover,
From " misr "
she announces it the heat,
That it melts my heart,
Night after night.
It lets that the patience delights your spirit.
The day she leaves as yesterday,
And while the evening is in death agony,
Raising a multicolored tulle curtain,
I listen to my heart to beat,
With the premonition that him,
Finally to of coming,
Silent it will be in my bedroom,
It will sow of kisses,
perfumed naked body,
The passion whispered.
It is never late to love again.
She has spilled of stars the sky,
The gleam marks the one on the way to the hope,
At the end of the mountains,
The valleys are, with abundant manna.
Food for the camels,
Wild fruits to calm the thirst.
I listen the silence,
To intone to the rest,
She opens your heart and you will have blessing.
She listened the voice of the almuecín
To call to the sentence.
All guided to the " masyid "
while it dozed,
a hand caressed my hair.
My young lover,
Lozano and cavalier it was shown for my surprise.
It defoliates my petals,
While she kisses each space of me.
I respond, with the fury of the Monsoon,
Clawing hefty body.
Running off with,
she dives in my secrets,
And a concert of howls,
Symphony of wailings,
We exploit allowing to escape the burning slope,
That she waters our thighs.
We are surprised fatigue,
After so many trips.
The love has times it betrays us, unintentionally.
God of the gods of the desert.
Torn my heart,
she prays with submissive regret,
While I wait,
The luck that my life will run.
The fear is my strength,
I walk raised,
For the back streets,
Surrounded of guards,
While the town spits my face.
Oh, good woman!
The betrayal of your love, is blood for the earth.
The young lover,
Chained their hands to the back,
The head places,
The executioner smiling,
Dry with the back of the hand, their babienta mouth.
It is as a lightning for the intense shine,
she runs off with thirsty
And he falls with fury,
Rotating the stealthy lover's young head,
Who neither a single groan of its mouth escapes.
It was stronger than the pain!
Oh, sweet woman!
That tragic destination, young hearts challenged.
My head in the high of the dune,
I am grass of the stones,
That they hit my head
That you grieve it appears on the sand.
The town laughs and she enjoys,
With the other people's pain.
Soul poor and passion,
They ignore the true love.
That the gods have forgiven me,
Because a brilliant light covers me,
A figure comes closer,
I listen in my stunned state,
The songs of the houris,
That they dance to my surroundings,
When opening my eyes,
The sacred garden emerges!
And I exclaim:
"the ilab, illa lil lab wa Muhammad rasul Allah"
Amir Ibn Tawfik Seeman
Book poetry: "I Sing the Woman of the Harem"
Lebanese Union Overseas S.L.
Lebanese Emigration Research Center
Notre Dame University-Zouk Mosbeh