Monday, November 16, 2009

Sargon Boulus


HOW EASTERN SINGING WAS BORN
.
PROPHET
.
I brace myself
Turn my face to flashes of lightning
Rave and wait until
The waves leave me
Chained to a rock
On an unknown coast
.
BOOK
.
Open the book of time
With trembling fingers and read
This is your life, pegged to time
With the short hair. Like a woman
It wants to disclose
Each and every secret
To you.
.
GOD
.
God wanted
To clear the world
Mankind is pre-ordained to wander
In dark, depressing alleys
For ever.
.
LUTE
.
It happened
That one of them gave
This lute and taught me to sing
With a cracked voice.
.
Iraq

No comments: