مع وقف الوطن

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اليد الطرية الأولى
التي تتحرش ببقايا النار
وتتحسس فولاذ الحرب
الذي برد للتو
واتقد للتو
اليد الصغيرة وأعني بها
أنامل الحناء
وابنتي تقول بايا هذا حديد
وانا أقول في نفسي
بأس شديد
وننظر سوية إلى السماء
ربما يخالجني أو يخالجها
أن الشمس حديد والقمر حديد
والطائر الذي يصدر صوتا عظيما
وله أزيز مرعب
قد يرسم على شفاهنا توهما
ابتسامات غير مؤكدة
مع وقف القصف
مع وقف الوطن
ووسوسة الرحيل والهرب الجارح
أقول ها بنيتي كفي
عن تقبيل هذا المعدن الأسود
فقد سال عليه دم كثير
وكم “عمو” مات لكي تعيشي
أنت وأختك الأخرى
تعالي أشتري لك شوكلاتة
علكة بودرية
بسكويت بعجوة من مكة
أخيرا ننجح في مغادرة سلطة المشهد
وأجدني أمسح عن شفتيها
بقايا السكاكر
بمنديل ورقي ناصع البياض ….

* مصراته – 21 ديسمبر 2014
بن الأمين

— in Misratah, Libya.

In the beginning

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In the beginning were the rustling leaves of the forbidden tree,
The commencement of the descent and the end of it was Autumn.

In the beginning were the creaking doors of the greater universe,
where all those who have entered endured the burning features of the existence.

In the beginning were the “things” hurting by “Things”
Fever was along the lines of puzzlement.

In the beginning was a bang on the head, then the initiation, etc… along the way.

Mohammad Bin Lamin


The Three Eras for a dream

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The Three Eras for a dream

Poem and Artworks By: Mohammad Bin Lamin.

Translated from Arabic by: Solara Sabah.


1. The Amulet Time

His blue Amulet did not save him from the act of the sea,

neither did the white one.

They did not soothed him from the flares of

the land.

They did not stop the temptation of the waves

and the curse of whiteness or cured him from the sun’s ailments.

He was saved by the worries of the mothers who were

lingering near the oven to steal from it the mercy of the bread.

Or maybe he was saved by the mother’s supplications in the half darkness

behind the spindle of  the wool’s mats,

praying to God to safeguard him

from the Beasts of the darkness,

the evil eyes, and  the ferocity of the envy.


2. The Solitude Time

And you’re a very obdurate!

You have never been bind by phylactery or by Fakih’s mantra

you saved your  steps

for the mint fragrance road and the accompaniment clouds.

Holding back your right hand

to greet the person of your dream,

To embrace the surface of the water,

Promising your heart to meet the spring and the temptation of the daffodils,

Rolling your eyes inside,

Laughing and crying.

Lighting the daytime by the sun,

Dripping the stars in the night,

and dangling from the moon!

Obstinately in love.

Your dream has taken by your pride

Descending into the illusion that one day it will come

with a dark eyes

elegant and tall

with a small bird hovering on the head.


Dancing and asking for the mercy.

The dance of the slaughterous

The mercy of the dust,

A resurgence of desperate love!


3. The Exudes Time

Hold on tight to your luggage!

You have to endorse your travel,

the nudge of the stations,

The noisiness of the railroads crossings;

and the dreariness of the passages and the tunnels.

Flying and sailing.Mingling with foreign seaports,

The dead dreams and the glasses of wanderers wine.

Dancers floating in the drum of the water.

The first lament for the homelandlurking from under the feet.

Where ever you go the land looks the same.

Strange as it should be,

You will never be familiar with this existing world.

you will be welcomed by the uncertainty of the empty rooms,

the shared houses,

the dispirited parks

And the ugly elderly women

The owners of the homes who will prohibited you from being late at night.

Just be as you are

lost between the distractions of the eyes and the lust of the dreams.

poor fellow as in the prayer.

Knight at the wedding extravaganza.

Taken by different visions,

and the fluctuated news.

Slaughtered by friends knifes

and deceived by the wooden rifles

How will you enjoy the night

As they do each day?

And how the moon complains of its nostalgia for the beautiful face?

You are doomed!

consumed by the timeas a coffee drunk in a hurry .

Blown by the wind as a nuisance Southern dust,

that will never whisk off by the country broom

Wake up and go on!

Your cold hands and these doors cannot endure the knocking,

neither the ceiling and the walls,

Forsake this dream of yours

and leave as those who left before you,

No need for the blame

Just wait with patience and eternal gaze.


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