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Saša Milivojev Sep 2022
Sasha Milivoyev
BLACK STONE

Mecca, Saudi Arabia

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska


By the Black Stone
Sinful, on my knees,
with tears in my eyes,
I'm pleading,
begging for forgiveness,
when blood-red turned the skies,
the stone grew darker,
blacker than night,
and it used to be white,
as luminous as the daylight,
when from the Garden above,
it fell many a warm Mays ago,
when it fell from Jannah,
far, far down below,
it was whiter than milk
and whiter than snow,
blackened from within,
from human malice and sin.

Never let it slip away,
the dushman came from far away,
tried bringing Kaaba to its knees,
killing Muslims,
the desert still bleeds,
covered in corpses,
devoured by rodents and beasts.

The Judgement Days are dawning soon.

The Sun will stop,
merge with the Moon,
Into the particles
the hills will be shattered,
spill like the honey that is melted,
Allah will be a righteous judge to everyone,
To the fires of hell, the monsters will succumb,
The stone will shine
with whiteness of dazzling purity,
The stone will be singing eternally,
The songs of joy, love and harmony.


Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska

www.sasamilivojev.com
Copyright © by Sasha Milivoyev, 2022
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
Tonight's the night
We gather the dead
Tonight's the night
Your head comes off
The Saudi  prince cackled
As the night went on
Kashogi
Was being
Dissolved in an acid soup
Along with others
Die
At his order
Cemetery state
Cemetery nature
I am thinking he
Was the one who loved me
This Cemetery prince.
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
Sikorki tchnienie w locie musnęło ziemię,
Kresy, wrzosy, suche liście też na wietrze.
Na sykomorze dalekiej Arabii ustała,
skulonego u jej korzeni tego, co sonety
o Aleppo układał, wysłuchała,
i przeto myślami po raz pierwszy
swe osmolone smogiem skrzydełka przetarła:

"Ku czemu się wykluwałam? Ku czemu latałam?
Swym trelem, uwagi skinieniem, czego mam być wyrażeniem?"
Nagle poczuła w każdej małej kości:
"Odpowiedź jest jedna: Miłości"

Że ma ona twarz wszystkiego, niczego, spojrzenia naszego:
Dwóch samców złączonych łabędzia czarnego,
Smutku dla szczęścia innego znoszonego,
Sekretu czule z łzami deszczowi wyznanego
I drzewa z grzyba korzeniem splątanego.

Że ku temu radość innym daje, że tego jest formą,
Wszystkich uczuć, chwil i wrażeń zmową.

"Dziękuję", na tą myśl światu odpowiedziała,
z wdzięczności dla poety z dołu
korę drzewa pocałowała,
i z nową tęsknotą, ku niebu Syrii,
odleciała.
A poem for the children at heart (and not only) of a little *** that learnt on a faraway sycamore through a refuge’s sonnets that Love is all and nothing, with all facades, as revelations or any physical/****** manifestation.
Will translate into English if requested (haven’t yet due to many rhymes and figures of expression)
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
Words like
“Syria”,
“Arabia”
or
“Aleppo”
somehow as beautiful sound
like oil pastels
on beige
found
Quick call of Pastel Heart
In creature comforts of the West; I ponder.
     As my heart strays eastward.
           My star in the East?

"If there be a God..."
       He must be capable of entering men's hearts,
             they in turn bear witness to human suffering.

If this is so.
    How can our brothers in Syria be suffering?
             Why have they been forsaken?

"If there be a God?"
       If there be a God.
           If there be a God.
                              Allah?
Could it be possible to be like Joseph? Could a man's mind from the West inspire those disenfranchised in the East to stop the struggle and join in the solution that ends all suffering for all brothers? Is that possible?

— The End —