(Exile Hymns for a Drunken Man)

— The Hymn of Intoxication —

(1)

The wine is drunk,

And the light’s voice is dim,

And words are extinguished,

And nothing remains but a white dove

In her hand, a peace offering…

Two wine glasses and two roses,

And a bed of ages, and there are “two lovers”

So when will the scent of mint waft

From the heart of words?

And today there is no language

Nor any meaning to the journey of the daisy!

…

The wine is drunk,

And meaning is addicted;

 Every poem comes to you with dizzying letters…

The poetry isn’t yours,

Nor do the rhymes stir you when they arrive…

Distribute your worries and lean on silence.

For time is wounded by place…

…

The wine is drunk,

And the harbor chants its essence,

And the sea searches for its lecture,

And the wave recounts the oar’s tale

In the chaos of wreckage…

And seagulls on the horizon

Playing without your awareness,

And the water purifies you, exiled one

In the marble islands…

…….

—The Hymn of Exile—

(2)

On the Ground Floor

From the sorrow of slander and gossip…

What do the rumor-mongers say?

Ninety twists and turns and wretched corridors,

And pregnant homelands,

And a courtesan sleeps…

From which lamp

—Here on the Ground Floor—

Will the light come? From which window does the sun shine?

From which daisy?

Fear comes, then goes,

Then it comes,

Then the place commits suicide…

On the ground floor

They tremble with fear

And break from the recklessness of darkness…

Are the spiders’ webs at the entrance to the corridor stronger,

Or are the doves their dwellings?!

Or am I a stone that has made the summit of exile its pillow

To forget that it sleeps at the bottom of the world?!

… What do the alarmists say?

And the wind comes!

And the white horses come!

And the doves?

And I lie with the navel of exile

And embrace the wine…

Hani Al-Fahham of Yemen