Poetry from Daniel De Culla

Man's hairy arm.


At the time of crossing the border

Between Spain to Morocco, through Ceuta

I look out the bus window

Seeing how the Moroccan police

Searches and flogs their fellow citizens

Who say goodbye tearfully

Of those who can transfer it.

I also see little birds

Yes, they can leave

Flying over mountains, cliffs and meadows.

Instantly I understand that I have entered

In the middle Ages

From Lazarillo de Tormes:

At the entrance to the beautiful cities:

 Fez, Kenitra, Agadir, Meknes, Marrakech

Rabat, Casablanca…

In its cemeteries

I see women killing lice

In the boys and girls’ heads

To bury them in the ground

That’s what the guide Abu Yusuf tells us

And the Uxda guide.

They are very nice

Of Berber origin.

Through its fields we have not seen

Magpies nor doves

Neither sandpipers nor quails

But yes farmers plowing

With wooden plows

Pulled by half-dead Donkeys.

At the door of the Kenitra hotel

A Moorish woman became

Open legs

Offering cheap sex, saying:

-Hey, foreign birds

You can enter.

I like the Spanish better!

At the entrance to the city of Meknes

Elderly, squatting

They made a belly

Without any consideration.

In Rabat and Casablanca

My wife got into


Having to enter the first

Restaurant seen.

When she came out from relieving herself

Her face was white as a wall

And her eyes were full of fear and fear.

-What happened my wife?

-It has been horrible!

There is no toilet bowl here.

You have to do it squatting

Shitting like making a minaret.

As you get careless or slip

You sit on it!

Through the streets of Fez

The Donkey has priority

And if you hear “Mek, Mek”

You have to make way for it.

The souks impress

They are scary because they tell

Good or bad languages

That women disappear

Especially if they are pretty.

The streets in Marrakech are so narrow

That not even the birds can march

Not even looking at the sky.

Uxda, the guide

Tells us not to let go of each other’s hands

Because it happens here

What in the pyramids of Egypt

Inside its tunnels:

Than an invisible hand

Can take your purse or wallet

Or touch the lady.

I remember that a colleague

That visited the Great Pyramid of Giza

Keops (Jufú))

She told me that it was known

Among tourists from all over

As “Tokatetamen Pyramid”

(Busttouch Pyramid)

Because invisible hands

Go to the tits and clits.

Removing the bad experience

In a roadside restaurant

Before arriving in Agadir

They gave us suckling pig ribs

No meat, just bones¡

The only appetizing food

For most of us

They were the akaran

Typical chickpea dish

Accompanied by band

Concentrated orange juice

And olive chicken.

Water, in many places

Is contaminated.

-Why would it occur to me

Order Moorish pinchos

In a tent with music

And belly dancing?

I got such a shit

That I couldn’t leave the hotel in Fez

Until it was over

Our trip.

Seeing a man in a white coat coming

To listen to me

Without thinking, I ran away

Getting into a bus that said:

“To the border”.

Already on the return boat

I reunited with my wife

And another tourists.

-Daniel de Culla