A Poem A Day - PoemHunter.com

Poetry Series
A Poem A Day
- poems -
Publication Date:
July 2005
Publisher:
PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive
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2005 / 05 / 18 - Studying pharmacy
Studyin' pharmacy ain't easy, I've been told
By many people, some young and some old...
Well, let me tell you, I'm not a nerd
So take off your lips this ugly word.
Pharmacy ain't as hard as you suppose
You just need a very curious nose,
A pair of working eyes, but one is enough
Two ears, coz with one you may find it tough,
A sportive tongue ready to pronounce
All the weird names, titles and nouns,
A bit of free space in your brains
And, for the hard days, some chains;
An ability to memorize a lot and a lot
Whether you actually understand or not,
The skill to never object or complain
When a teacher chooses not to explain,
A mouth that shuts up when you're told to,
One working hand, better if you got two,
The faculty of studying 20 pages per hour
The power to feel clean without a shower
And to stay awake without having slept too
(Because you might not find time to) .
That's the indispensible equipment
You might thrown in, if you want,
Some scientifical knowledge and some intelligence.
Add to these opitonals a lot of patience
To manage busy secretaries, stupid educators,
Curious patients and brainless doctors.
That's about it, but you could use
A pair of nice pants and trendy shoes.
A Poem A Day
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2
2005 / 05 / 19 - Funny botanics course
Finally we've been tought something amusing
During the course of botanics (usually boring)
The teacher said that plants could move
'Tis caused by chemicals, not by a groove.
Apparently as the sunflower turns to the sun,
Some plants can not only turn, but run.
So don't find it weird next time
When you see an orange dancin' with a lime!
A Poem A Day
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3
2005 / 05 / 20 - Mes pantoufles d'hiver
Vraiment, je déteste mes pantoufles d'hiver
Oui, je sais, il ne faut pas être sévère,
Mais quand je mets mon pied à l'intérieur,
Il étouffe, il pleurniche et se met en sueur.
Puis, lorsque je sens qu'il est achevé
Et que je décide finalement de l'enlever,
La semelle intérieure se colle à mes orteils
Et les piège comme un géant dans sa bouteille,
En fait, cette semelle, je l'ai déjà collée
Mais en moins de deux jours, elle s'est décollée,
Et maman, à force de m'entendre râler
M'a dit: 'Je t'en achèterai une autre, allez! '
Ca fait un mois que j'attends et je me lasse
De porter pendant ce temps, ces godasses.
L'air n'y entre plus, pas même un souffle
Alors vous voyez pourquoi je hais ces pantoufles.
A Poem A Day
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4
2005 / 05 / 21 - Failing a test
In the class, you were like a guest
While the teacher was explaining to the rest
You were vaguing in your secret nest
Never putting your intelligence at test
Thinking you didn't have to invest
And keeping your energy for another quest.
Then you noticed the burden on your chest
So you squeezed your brains up to the zest.
But now, you didn't make it like the rest
And you failed your chemistry test
If you're angry, feel free to protest
But it's not like you did all of your best.
Your friends are all out now, having a fest
While you lay thinking, conscience not at rest.
A Poem A Day
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5
2005 / 05 / 22 - Sweet Sunday (At Kleiat)
It's so quiet here, I can almost hear
Mother earth breathe right into my ear
Sending a gentle breeze, a whisper of grace
And a secret calling of love and faith.
A few voices raise from time to time
Violating the absolute calm, dishonoring crime
My father telling the gardener by numbers
Where to plant the remaining three cucumbers,
Our neighbor calling her five-year old child
Who went with his friends to play in the wild,
My mother wondering, with a loud voice
What she'll cook for lunch, very hard choice,
And a car engine struggling to come up
The hill to our house, it decides to stop.
But the nature knows exactly how to resist,
It's almost like these sounds don't exist,
They get dissolved into the sighing gust
Like thin powder mixes with the dust.
I've been sitting here for over two hours
Watching the same bunch of six red flowers,
I have tried to move a bee away from my ear
But it came back, buzzing with no fear,
I guess this is a way to show her elation
At the sight of this incredible creation,
It's her way of saying 'I love you spring,
I love all the joy and hope that you bring'.
Now, I decide to take a look around the garden
Unlikely, the cherry tree carries a heavy burden
This year, a lot of red is mixed with the green
Making a blend, like nothing I've ever seen.
I can nearly hear those cherries calling me
To savor their taste, mouth watering and creamy,
I can nearly feel their velvet dress in my hand,
Trace of heaven, delusion of a different land.
My father once said 'You should fortify the roots,
This is how you manage to get lots of fruits'
He also told me it was extremely tough
But I notice his strategy worked well enough,
I can see mini-apples, mini-pears, a mini-peach
And a lot of mini-currants still out of reach,
I can also see blooming flowers of every shade,
A once in a lifetime sight I wouldn't trade.
I return to my little white plastic chair
Convinced that there's so much love in the air,
I can't help but notice the peace is back
And everything has been put right onto its track
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6
My father is hosing the watermelon, hoping it'll grow,
The gardener left but promissed to come back tomorrow,
The neighbor's son apparently is still out
But his tired mother decided not to shout,
While my mother finally settled on a barbecue
But whether it's chicken or meat, I have no clue.
I sit down and choose to enjoy the serenity
Of this moment of glory, trapped in the eternity.
It's so beautiful here, I can almost see
The gentle wind roaming to hug the tree.
A Poem A Day
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7
2005 / 05 / 23 - The bathroom lamp
Yesterday, I wanted to wash my hands, at night
I went to the bathroom and turned on the light
But it was still so dark, my eyes couldn't cope
I even had to search and seek just to find the soap.
Then I took a look at the lamp up on the wall
It seemed less like a light and more like a ball.
So I went and asked my dad, who was still awake
Whether the weird lamp I was seeing was real or fake
I said 'Dad, something is wrong with the toilet lamp
I don't know, maybe it's having a sort of a cramp
Or maybe the constant heat made it shrink or disappear
The light it's giving is even fade, I can't see clear,
I know this lamp gave us so much trouble in the past
It used to switch off regularly, then turn on fast
It even shut down without any reason, last week'.
But my dad answered: 'That lamp was awfully weak
I got sick and tired of screwing it every time
So I bought the new small one, is that a crime? '
A Poem A Day
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8
2005 / 05 / 24 - Eau
Océan de beauté au centre du désert,
Instant de bonheur au milieu de la misère,
Besoin intime de quelque chose de beau,
Besoin de clarté, de transparence, d'eau.
A Poem A Day
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9
2005 / 05 / 25 - Shopping with a friend
Shopping with a friend is cool
There's nothing forbidden, no rule
And no parents to say what's suitable
Or to tell you what's unaffordable,
Actually you don't need to be rich
To try on whatever your eyes wish.
Shopping with a friend is so nice
You might forget budget and price
And buy things you don't need
Just by habit, not by greed
Like get ten or eleven similar tops
From two or three different shops.
Shopping with a friend is funny
Even if you don't have money
You can try a formal blue shirt
With a long gypsy orange skirt
Pretend to buy them but act lost
Then don't, because they're low-cost.
Shopping with a friend is naughty
You can act humble or haughty
Change personnalities between stores:
Be a girl who laughs and snores
Or an english tourist, elegant and neat
Who went walking on the street.
But shopping is more pleasant with a friend
Who has a thousand dollars to lend.
A Poem A Day
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive
10
2005 / 05 / 26 - Champions' League final
They thought I was a total fool
When I said the winner will be Liverpool,
Because Milano did score three goals
But then, they slept and rested their souls
While the English never gave up hope,
Despite their loss, they managed to cope
And equalized right after the break
As easy as if it was a piece of cake.
The Italians kept playing without chemistry
Someone please take them out of their misery!
I don't know how they got to the penalty shots
But the English were far better, far by knots
The trophee was handed to Liverpool
Now tell me, seriously, who is the fool?
A Poem A Day
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11
2005 / 05 / 27 - Souvenirs
Je voulais écrire un poème aujourd'hui, mais je ne pouvais penser qu'à deux vers que
j'avais écrit depuis longtemps. Alors, j'ai abandonné la tentative d'écriture, et voici les
2 vers qui me rongeaient le cerveau:
Dans ce monde de mensonge,
L'amour n'est qu'un songe.
Parfois je me dis qu'il n'y a rien de spécial à ces mots, mais la plupart du temps, je
sens que j'ai réussi à capturer quelque chose de vrai à travers ces deux vers. J'espère
que je ne me trompe pas.
A Poem A Day
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12
2005 / 05 / 28 - My gym coach
My gym coach is a shorty,
A typical lebanese weightlifter and boxer,
Aged somewhere around forty,
Who still ignores the second meaning of 'boxer'.
He exersizes from sunrise till dawn
Never getting tired, never giving up,
Nostalgic about a glory that's gone
Glory of a boxer who never won a cup.
He had no family, no parents, no wife,
Nothing but his red gloves an beloved rim
So he thought he'd no longer waste his life
And decided to open this small gym.
Now, he's admired by the young boys
Who come every day to see him train
With his 100Kg weights, his 'small toys'
As he says to whoever thinks he's insane.
Sometimes, while running, I hear a 'boum'
I know it's him, opening gently the door,
He walks like a king in the jogging room
With his feet barely touching the floor.
Then he blows his muscles in my face
Telling me this is how I should look like,
And if I dare to say 'it's a high pace'
He stands offensively, ready to strike.
But still, I think he is hilarious
With his mannors and XXL muscle size
And I love to make him furious
By telling him: 'You should still exercize! '
A Poem A Day
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13
2005 / 05 / 29 - Ne désespère pas
On dit qu'il ne faut jamais perdre espoir,
Que la chance attend au bout du tournant,
Qu'avant le jour, il y a toujours un soir
Et que demain serait mieux que maintenant.
On parle beaucoup, mais qui peut croire
A des paroles usées à travers le temps,
A des balivernes, proverbes et histoires
Qu'on oublie, tellement on les entend.
Mais aujourd'hui j'ai compris le vrai sens
De ces commentaires que je croyais vains,
J'ai saisi le vrai dans ces sentences
En regardant une course de formule un.
Raikonen menait la marche avec aisance
Puis sa voiture pirouetta comme sur des patins,
Ce fut au dernier tour, simple malchance
Que se déroula cet accident tellement craint.
Son pneu devait résister encore une minute,
Mais il lâcha si près de la ligne du but;
Et Alonso fut l'héritier extrêmement gâté
De cette course, à la dernière seconde, ratée.
Mais il avait pleinement mérité sa récompense
Car il était resté derrière, prêt à saisir sa chance
Il n'a pas perdu espoir, et le voilà finir
Par un succès que personne n'aurait pu prédire.
A Poem A Day
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14
2005 / 05 / 30 - Open your heart
Over the internet, for seven years
They had chatted
He was there to wipe her tears
Whenever she felt sad.
For three years, he was a friend,
She was a friend,
With a message of hope to send
Through the web.
Then love spread its wings
Above them,
The four seasons became four springs
In their eyes.
He had sent her his best pic
To make her smile
Whenever she's sad or sick
Or
Whenever she feels the world is unfair
And she gives up
To desolation, sadness and despair.
He had her photo
Hidden among all the things he cherishes
His dreams,
His sorrows and his very secret wishes.
She was encrypted in his mind
He was in hers
Like a hidden treasure you can't find
Though you know it's there,
Like the binary numbers in a PC
They make it function
But they are nothing you can see.
She was the reason he woke up
Every day,
He was the reason she never gave up
In every way.
She was Morrocan, he was Lebanese
They were together
Despite the distance and the seas,
Despite the fears,
United through the tears,
And through the invisible wires of a net
Where they first linked and met.
They talked, she heard his voice
He heard hers,
Since then they had no other choice
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15
Than speak
Every day a little bit more
Just a minute,
To reach everything they had waited for
Longer than years.
To find him online, she was keen
Though she had seen him the day before,
She even worshiped the computer screen
That showed his face, once more.
He had fallen in love with the phone
He even fell asleep next to it
Waiting for the call and magical tone
That would make him hear her voice for a minute.
Then they thought they had to meet
She couldn't come
He couldn't go, it was a total defeat
Of the love they had.
But she didn't give up, she fought
For love
And forth love is meant to triumph, she thought
Over everything else.
From Morroco, she came in a secret way
Without telling him
That was the first time she kept away
A secret from him.
Now, she is in a lebanese talkshow
'Open your heart'
Could she reveal everthing she has to show
By opening hers?
She explained their story with a smile,
People found it weird,
She needed nothing but to see him for a while
And ask him
Ask him if he was honest, if it wasn't a lie
When he said
That for her, he'd do anything, he'd even die.
He doesn't know from where the invitation came
But he doubts
In his eyes, all the invitations are the same
Except hers.
When he sees her face invade the TV screen
He smiles
Almost like if it was the first time he's ever seen
Her beautiful eyes.
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16
They ask him 'who is she? ' What can he say?
He answers
'This is the dearest person' without a delay
And he smiles again.
She's relieved, the answer she came looking for
Layed in front of her
In the happiness that spread from his core
Ever since he saw her.
The question is a forgotten formality
She doesn't need to do,
For the reply is in front of her, a reality
That she can't deny.
One curtain and twenty steps
Separate them,
The shade is opened, remains the steps:
One
Two
Three four
Five six seven
Eight nine ten eleven
Twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen
Sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen
Twenty.
Through the air of a television show
Called 'open your heart',
They showed a huge love still able to grow,
They united to no longer be apart.
A Poem A Day
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17
2005 / 05 / 31 - A poem a day
'How can you write a poem a day?
Is there a method? A secret way? '
I have been asked so many times
How can I find my ideas and rhymes,
How in less than twenty four hours
Can I recover all of my powers
To strike again like a serial killer
Coming out of an american thriller.
Well, writing poetry is very easy
You should find words, make them cheesy,
Spice them up according to the desire
And leave them to jumble on the fire,
Then display them in a vague way
There, you got your poem for today.
I know digging for new topics is hard
But this is how you know the fraud from the bard!
A Poem A Day
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive
18
2005 / 06 / 01 - The 'double you's
Today is the day I finally say
Goodbye to you, hated month of May
And hail to you, beloved June,
Can't say you came too soon!
A new month, new internet account
New hours to spend, untouched amount
Twenty five, new, brand new, utterly new
Not too many, but not a few.
I no longer need to avoid peaking
At my dear computer knowing
That it's forbidden, I can now use it
For a whole day or for a bit.
And when I hear the modem once again
I'm taken to a land newly discovered by men,
Where they don't need to stand in queues,
A land all made of 'double you's.
A Poem A Day
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive
19
2005 / 06 / 03 - A birthday phone message
Yesterday was a very special day
It was my friend Racha's birthday
So I thought I'd make her stop the moan
By sending her a message on the phone:
'Habbeh berdeh* ya 7abibteh!
Chou kberna seneh?
Ya delleh sorteh bel 3echrin!
Wa ana 3al tari2!
Yalla khatyarna...'
That message was written in Arabic, not Swedish
I think it sounds very kiddish
So just to convince you it's not rubbish
I'll translate it litteraly to english:
Cold breeze dear!
What we grew one year?
......** you became in the twenties!
And I'm on the road!
Come on, we're getting old...
This translation didn't make my point clear
I was congratulating her for growing one year
I also said I was following her pace
Which seems to me a bit more like a disgrace.
I actually still feel like a child
An eight-year old kid, whimsical but mild,
Or like a twenty-four-hour clown
Unable to act serious, and unable to frown.
Let's get back to Racha and not drift.
I, then, offered to get her a gift:
'I was thinking chou a7la cadeau
Ma32oul jeblik yeh, bala bekhel,
W faj2atan EUREKA WAJADTOUHA!
(But I didn't go running naked in the street
Metel akhouna Einstein)
Ra7 a3mol 3annik fa7s el botanic! '
which is a funny thought, in betweens,
And, in english, litteraly means:
'I was thinking what's the best gift
I could get you, without thrift,
And suddenly EUREKA I FOUND IT
(But I didn't go running naked in the street
Like our brother Einsten)
I will do
The botanics test for you! '
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Very thoughtful consideration and considerate thought, right?
Well if you know what i mean, excuse me, if you might,
I need to explain to the rest why doing the botanics test
Is a heavy burden on every pharmacy student's chest.
We got around 237 plant names to memorize
A topic worth all the screams and cries,
Not to mention every plant's specifications
Useless informations, worthless notions:
Which plant has which roots
What type are every plant's fruits
And what's the sort of their flowers,
Unlimited data, if compiled, they'd make towers!
So now you know why we hate botanic
And why its test makes us panic,
So you understand that offering to make the test
For her, is a nice gift to suggest.
Later, she called me, thanked me and said
That it wasn't Einstein who ran naked, but Archimed.
* in arabic, it sounds like happy birthday
** no litteral translation found for the 'ya delleh', the actual meaning seems a lot
similar to the 'oh my god! ' interjection.
A Poem A Day
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21
2005 / 06 / 04 - Mexican series fan
He is a man in his late twenty
And love stories, he's had plenty
Stories he hadn't lived but seen
Through the colourful TV screen.
Mexican series of love and hate
Of betrayals, friends and fate,
Scenarios he memorized by heart
Of a couple endlessly driven apart
But coming together despite it all
By answering love's gentle call.
The heroes in the end will be married,
The evil mother-in-law will be burried,
These are facts, he just knows
But he keeps on watching the shows.
Maybe, through the brave heroes
Of these lame everlasting mexican shows
He finally fulfills his secret wish
Of being handsome, placid and rich,
He finally fulfills his timeless will
Of having, in his boring life, some thrill.
Maybe he can't live except in dreams
Maybe his life is a sea without streams,
And he's looking for a chance to capture
To end his meaningless life and torture.
Now, once again, he turns the TV on
He forgets his life, memories: none
All he cares about is Pedro and Maria
Heroes of the new series, on the TV 'Heya'.
A Poem A Day
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22
2005 / 06 / 05 - Mother earth
Billions of people on this earth
Every second, hundreds of births
Hundreds of new humans coming
To populate the planet.
If one day, there would be no more space,
If all the green woods and blue seas
Have been invaded by our race
Where would we put the newborns?
Can we stop this growing fever
Of newly born innocent babies
Meant to become the infesting occupants
Of a land that was never theirs?
And while a new child is born,
Another trapped rat,
Another hungry cat,
Another hunted bat
Die.
They die because we're invading their habitations,
Because we're afraid of them,
Because we want to eat them,
Because we just want them dead,
Or because we're eating the food
That was once meant to feed us both,
But that we now think is only ours.
A million years ago, or so
There were animals, all over the earth
And a few men,
Now there are humans, all over the earth
And a few pets.
They used to live in peace, and harmony,
Now, we live, or we don't
Because we're too afraid of them
To actually enjoy life, and enjoy living aside them.
And we keep building,
Taking the stones from the mountains
Placing it on the planes;
We keep creating roads,
Through the hills or in the see,
Placing asphalt on the ground
And paving it too;
We keep constructing bridges,
Over the seas, to connect
While all we actually do
Is drift apart, more, every day;
We keeping building dykes,
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And changing the water's course,
Stealing it from its meant destiny
And keeping it for ourselves,
Like if it would never come back again;
We keep cutting the trees,
Erasing the woods
Killing the unborn life,
Digging the ground
Stealing the hidden goods,
Using and abusing our ressources
According to our moods
Or to the mood of a new CEO
Who wants to prove that by consumming more energy
We can earn more money.
We keep thanking God for his blessings
Not knowing that in every second, we offend him
By forsaking his most precious present for us:
A land to live on, a land to die on
Not a land to kill, a land to slaughter.
We keep telling God that his creation wasn't perfect
Because the ground he created is rough for our cars,
Because the stones he created aren't shaped as homes,
Because the rivers he created are not flowing next to our doors,
Because the lands he created are not linked, and they should,
And because he created animals that we fear
More than animals that we like.
We keep cursing his beloved gift,
By every single way that we can,
Never thinking there must be a reason
Why everything is like what it's like,
Never thinking that maybe every thing was built
Not just for us, but for all the other creatures too.
And then, we go watching programs like Ushuaïa*
Surprised by the immensity of God's creations,
Thinking
'Oh my God! Blessed be thy name
For you made such beauty!
This sea is so pure,
These mountains are so wonderful,
This view is awesome!
Never thought there could be something
As breathtaking as this scene! '
Yeah, never thought, maybe, that this Beauty exists
Because our hands still haven't violated her.
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24
*Ushuaïa is a french program that shows newly discovered and beautiful places on
earth.
A Poem A Day
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25
2005 / 06 / 06 - Dénombrer sa vie
Deux milliards cinq cent millions secondes
Vécues au sein de ce monde
Vingt neuf mille sept cent dix-neuf rires
Quatre-vingt douze mille cent trois sourires
Cent quinze mille quatre cent dix 'bonjours'
Dix-sept ou dix-huit histoires d'amour
Trois mille huit cent cinquante et un pleurs
Deux cent vingt sept bouquets de fleurs
Quatre voitures, deux chats, un chien
Cent quarante deux mille dollars en biens
Treize mille soixante journées de boulot
Six arrivées jusqu'au bout du rouleau
Trois fils, deux filles de deux mariages
Onze campings, sept excursions, un voyage
Un prix gagné, cinq grandes opportunités perdues
Cent vingt neuf lettres envoyées et reçues
Sept cent cinquante sept chansons mémorisées
Quatre-vingt dix-huit danses refusées
Deux cent six instants de colère comprimée
Trois mille cent vingt pilules et comprimés
Seize femmes trouvées vraiment jolies
Cinq mille six cent neuf moments de folie
Soixante deux collègues, vingt quatre amis
Cent quatorze disputes, trois ennemis
Six cent cinquante huit films regardés
Quarante quatre grammes de cocaïne essayés
Vingt six mille deux cent dix appels téléphoniques
Trois sosies rencontrées, et dire qu'il s'était cru unique!
C'était sa vie, en quelques nombres
Il avait toujours refusé de vivre dans l'ombre
Voilà qu'il fermait les yeux pour la dernière fois
Complètement ravi de tous ses choix,
Suffisamment content d'avoir supporté
Et absolument satisfait d'avoir existé.
A Poem A Day
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26
2005 / 06 / 07 - Men rawe2i3 el che3r el khalijeh (with translation)
Tcheftek b soug, labssa kiss fa7m aswad
W tthakkart enni sirt redjal, bathalt walad
Ma gdert atchouf 3einik aw khaddek
Bass tcheft tharaf assabe3 yaddek.
Ma adhri itha inti 7abbaytini
Bass adhri innik assartini
Men gabl awwal nathra
W khallaytini a7ibbik marra.
3atchanek ath7adda kell el 3yal
W 3atchanek adhfa3 miliar ryal
A7ebbek marra w abghiki
W abghi atlob yaddek min abiki,
Abghi tsiri zodjti el thaltha
W agaddi ma3aki yom el ithnein wel toulatha.
Bass dayya3tek, goulili, enti ayya kiss fa7m
Ma ben kell el wagfin gourb dekkan el la7m?
For the non-arabic speaking people, here's the closest translation I can make (it's a
poem written in Saudian) :
BEST OF KHALIJI POETRY
I saw you in the market, wearing a bag of black coal
And I remembered I'm no longer a boy, I'm a man.
I couldn't see your eye or your cheek,
I only saw a part of your fingers.
I don't know if you liked me
But I know you imprisonned me
Even before the first look
And you made me fall in love with you.
For you, I'd defy both of our families
For you, I'd pay a billion Ryal (the saudian monney) .
I love you so much, and I want you
I want to ask you for marriage from your father (that sentence's structure is wrong,
but this is the only translation I could make)
I want you to become my third wife
And spend with you the Mondays and Tuesdays.
But I lost you, tell me, which bag of coal are you
Among all the ones standing next to the butcher's shop?
A Poem A Day
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2005 / 06 / 08 - Smiling face
Wondering around with her smiling face
She seems like she has got no lace,
Like she sees the world in pink
As the French usually say, I think.
In her eyes, everyone is nice, honest
Kind, loving, gentle and modest.
And to her, no one could be ruthless
There's nothing called evil or meanness.
She never looks at the bad part
But only sees things from her heart,
A heart so innocent and so pure
It'd find for all the world's cruelty, a cure.
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2005 / 06 / 09 - Jaretna lleh ma khassa bel siyesseh (translated)
2e3deh 3al balcon,3am betfa22eh bezr
W 3am tekol sandwish 2adda, la tenfezir
W faj2atan 2arrarit tfout bel siyesseh
Ka anna fehmneh kell hal awda3 el 7essesseh,
3am te7keh, aw bel a7ra 3am bitsarrikh
Enno el tayyar ba3d ma la77a2 yfarrikh,
W enno el 2ouwwet ktir d3af w mahzoumin
W 7ezb allah w 7araket 2amal maghbounin.
2al kamein el 2arman lezim yrou7o 3a armenia
Aw yentekhbo beh terkiyya aw beh kinya,
W snedi2 el iktira3 henneh snedi2 batata
W tayyar el mousta2bal mannon 2ella frata...
Ba3den sarit t3ayyit 3a 2ass7aba w t2ellon
Enno mech fer2en ma3a bel marra ra2yon,
Ana ra2yeh, fouteh ya 7elweh 3al 2ouda
W n2eleh ehtimemik lal moussi2a aw lal mouda!
TRANSLATION (still incomplete, sorry)
She's sitting on the balcony [...]
Eating a huge sandwich that could make her blow
And suddenly she decided to talk politics
Like she understands anything from what's going around
She's speaking, or should I say yelling
That the LFPM* is still so young
And that the LF are so weak and defeated
And Hezbollah and the Amal movement are misled.
And she said that the Armenians should go back to Armenia
Or go vote somewhere in Turkey or in Kenya,
[...]
And the Future movement are just left-overs.
Then she started shouting at her friends saying
She doesn't care about their opinions
Let me tell you my opinion, cute girl: go back inside
And start caring about other topics, like music and fashion!
*LFPM is the lebanese free patriotic movement
*LF are the lebanese forces
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2005 / 06 / 10 - My newly discovered relative
I thought she'd be insensitive
Haughty, arrogant and sarcastic
Maybe like Cruella from the 101 Dalmatians
Or the evil witch in Snow White,
But I was surprised to find out
She was cute, harmless and funny
A bit shy at first, but then opened up,
Very imaginative and very gifted.
But I was even more surprised to see
I had found a new friend
In my newly discovered relative!
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30
2005 / 06 / 11 - Should've said Hello
7am. She’s on the bicycle pedaling very fast
And listening to another weird song by Outkast.
I came in, I know I should’ve said ‘hello’ but
Weirdly and despite all manners, I did not
Though I had looked in her eyes, and looked deep
I still regret it, but my social side was still asleep.
A Poem A Day
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31
2005 / 06 / 12 - Tout est orange
Klaxons, embouteillages, foule dans la rue
Interviews, annonces, cris, tout est orange*
C'est le jour des élections, de l'anxiété accrue
Jour du peuple trahi qui s'éveille et se venge.
Pour la première fois, depuis plus de dix ans
Le Bien triomphe comme les gens ont choisi
Le Mal est vaincu en vrai, pas sur les grands écrans
Et voici que sont rejetés tous ces politiciens moisis!
*L'orange est la couleur caractéristique du Libre Mouvement Patriotic Libanais, conduit
par le Général Michel Aoun, qui a réussit pendant ces élections.
A Poem A Day
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32
2005 / 06 / 13 - Twenty bucks phone
My cousin came to me carrying a phone
More appealing than an ice cream cone,
A 7610 Nokia, black, grey and red
'I'm selling it at 20 bucks' he said.
My hand reached excitedly to my pocket
As fast as a formula one car or a rocket,
But it only came out with a ten dollar bill
'Can I pay you the rest later? I swear I will! '
So he said 'you've got your deal, honey'
Then he smiled and took the offered money.
I touched the phone, it felt sweet like cream,
Then woke up, too bad it was just a dream.
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2005 / 06 / 14 - Ways to give a test
My chemistry teacher, who is actually very witty
(He said he's been in Lebanon for three years
But he's taught for five years at the university:
A pleasant sentence that made us laugh to tears,
How could he live abroad and teach here?
I still can't manage to grasb that idea, I fear)
So my wise chemistry teacher gave us an exam
From some forgotten records of year nineteen ninety,
The given questions didn't match the taken program
Something he forgot to check out, oh, calamity!
I wonder how do teachers, like him, put their test
I mean do they find another year's session
And give it as it is, leaving their minds at rest?
Someone's got to take from them a confession!
And who's the bloke who has to suffer and not protest?
That's the student who must answer questions he doesn't know
Just because his teacher lacked time to put a decent test
Since he was watching some stupid television show!
A Poem A Day
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2005 / 06 / 15 - Eau (suite) / Une goutte d'eau
Incolore, inodore, incipite, elle n'est rien
Indispensable, elle est tout
Elle est le plus précieux des biens
Et sur cette planèe, elle se trouve partout.
Mais l'homme en consomme de plus en plus
A tout instant, il l'utilise et l'exploite
Et s'ingénie à trouver mille et une astuces
Pour l'épuiser d'une façon des plus maladroites.
Un jour, cet homme regardera sa planète usée,
Son besoin ultime de quelque chose de beau
Lui rappelera le don dont il avait abusé
La limpidité, la simplicité, le bonheur, l'eau.
A Poem A Day
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2005 / 06 / 16 - A propos d'un médecin
On l'appelle Docteur, mais il est juste médecin
Et personne ne peut confirmer s'il est sain,
Sa véritable spécialité, c'est la gynécologie
Mais il traite tout, du sida à la dermatologie,
On le qualifie de fou mais tous le respectent
C'est comme si à lui seul, il avait une secte,
Celle des vieux qui le haissent et l'insultent
Mais à la moindre altération, le consultent.
Son nom est reconnu partout dans la région,
Et si ses adeptes formaient des légions,
Ses ennemis, eux, assembleraient des armées
Qui, par sa réputation, n'ont pas été charmés.
Il possède un grand hopital, vide et deserté
Où il reçoit ses nombreux clients, avec fierté
Et où il les fascine par son grand savoir,
Mélange de notions logiques et de magie noire.
Quelqu'un m'a dit: 'Tous les gens ici l'adorent
Même s'il est derrière une centaine de leurs morts'
Je crus que c'était une ignoble exagération
Jusqu'à ce que j'en eus une confirmation:
Monsieur le médecin avait préscrit un médicament
A une jeune charmante fille de six ans,
Qui était allergique à la famille de la penicilline
Alors que ledit médicament contenait de l'amoxyciline!
En quelques jours, j'eus trois certaines preuves:
Il aurait tué la fille, un homme et une veuve,
Heureusement, il y a des pharmaciens de coeur
Prêts à corriger ses sottes fatales erreurs,
Et à éviter qu'un nouveau mort se rattache
A la liste de ceux qui ont été tués par Dr Hajj.
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36
2005 / 06 / 17 - En swinguant
Dissipe la lueur en ce soir
Laisse moi et cette balancoire,
Sans étoiles et sans lune
Que la nuit et moi soyons une,
Berce moi jusqu'à l'aurore
Puis berce moi encore et encore,
Que je hais le jour et adore la nuit
Berce moi pour oublier qui je suis.
Berce moi lentement puis vite
Que mes pieds touchent le zénith,
Dissous moi dans les ombres
Que je vague, que je sombre,
Fais moi croire que je suis un oiseau
Que je m'envole entre les roseaux,
Berce moi juste quelques jours
Puis berce moi pour toujours.
Berce moi jusqu'au sommeil
Et qu'il n'y ait plus de réveil,
Donne moi d'infinis doux rêves
Que cette nuit jamais ne s'achève,
Bénit moi de ce silence extraordinaire
Que je fonde avec l'haleine de l'air,
Je voudrais mourir en swinguant
Et que mon dernier souffle soit un ouragan.
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2005 / 06 / 18 - Grandmère
Ma grandmère est une personne très peureuse
Incapable de vivre un vie paisible et heureuse,
On pourrait même dire qu'elle est une obsédée
Qui n'accepte que personne ne vienne l'aider.
Elle a peur de la vitesse, des voitures, accidents,
Des médecins, animaux, insectes et médicaments,
De l'obscurité, du temps, de la mort mais surtout
Elle a une abominable et terrible peur, de tout.
Elle a peur pour elle, pour sa fille et ma mère,
Peur pour moi, pour mes amies et pour mon père,
On dirait qu'elle a juste une peur immonde
Pas pour certaines personnes, mais pour tout le monde.
C'est comme si elle se vouait le fameux rôle
De porter les peurs du monde sur ses épaules.
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38
2005 / 06 / 19 - Waking up with the birds
Ultimate peace and silence
Found
In less than one glance.
Noise of the city
Forgotten
Replaced my serenity.
I open my eyes
White
Unspolied with evil lies.
Listen to the echoes
Birds
No fraud, no feared foes.
Juste innocent whisteling
Birds
Who woke up happily to sing.
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2005 / 06 / 20 - Dogs hate me
I don't know why but dogs seem to hate me,
Whenever they see me, they run, ready to bite me
Then, they stand at one centimeter from my feet
And bark, looking ready to attack, hit and beat.
Dear dogs, I don't think I ever did you any harm
So can you please like me and fall for my charm?
Or can we start it all again, on a healthier basis
Since this hatred in your eyes is causing me a crisis!
A Poem A Day
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2005 / 06 / 21 - Shoe lace and thyme bag
He's bending down to tie his shoe lace
Two cars pass as fast as if they have a race
Making the mud fly towards his new jeans,
He starts to rise up but then he leans
Back and hardly swallows his curse
As if he's saving it to a situation much worse.
He tries to tie the lace for the second time
But it gets loose and lends in the bag of thyme
Of the fat old woman standing next to his feet
Waiting for a taxi to pass by the street
But he's too shy to ask for his lace back
So he leaves it with the thyme in the stack.
And not even one damn taxi would arrive,
Would it hurt him if he had learned how to drive?
Sadly, he keeps leaning, looking at the floor
Seeking for a magical stone to take him off shore,
It's noon and the sun hurts his buttocks
A dropp of sweat lands on his Armani socks.
Now he's filled with mud from belt to toe
Thinking how the hell he dropped this low,
He's an unemployed twenty five years old
With a defeated soul auctionned to be sold,
Undone hair, sweating forehead and one untied shoe
Standing like a fool who doesn't know what to do.
He's been waiting for an hour but he doesn't worry
It's not as if he is in some kind of hurry,
He just wants to get hom before the night
And cry himself to sleep as he thinks he might.
The lady left with the thyme bag and his lace
But he won't make, from this accidental theft, a case.
He keeps leaning towards the floor with such grace
So no one on the street could see his angel face.
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2005 / 06 / 22 - Sale voiture
La pluie était sans doute tombée hier soir
Salissant ma voiture, sans aucune retenue,
De grise, elle était aussitôt passée à noire
Avec des taches blanches de nature inconnue.
Je sais, ma voiture était déjà assez dégoûtante
Mais il a fallu la pluie pour lui rendre
Le service de devenir un peu plus répugnante
Et l'aspect d'être reniée et mise à vendre.
Avec la poussière accumulée sur les vitrages
Et les fientes de pigeons attérries n'importe où,
Le verre devenait opaque, me rendant folle de rage
Et prête à la frotter et la laver de partout.
C'est pourquoi, vers la station, je me dirige
Avec tant d'espoir et beaucoup de ton osé,
Alors, le plus sophistiqué nettoyage, j'exige
En espérant qu'elle ne me donnera plus la nausée.
A Poem A Day
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42
2005 / 06 / 23 - Beirut's Heat
The dust is floating in the polluted air
Like a silent whitness of people's suffering
And the sun is shining proudly like the heir
To a throne that has never had any king.
After a few days in the fresh mountain,
I'm back to the city's dreadfull heat
With sweat flowing like a streaming fountain,
Smelly socks and horribly stinky feet.
40°C, the thermometer must've gone furious;
With my shirt and pants glued to my skin,
I'm somehow getting mad and delirious
If I walked naked, would it be a sin?
A Poem A Day
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43
2005 / 06 / 24 - Mom, Dad, I bought scientific books
My parents were convinced I wasn't serious
About my majoring choice in universtity
Because they'd never seen me go curious
About anything correlated with pharmacy.
But I decided to prove them utterly incorrect,
Show them that deceitful are many looks,
And rectify their discrediting dialect
So I went to some exposition of books.
I bought books about immunology, hematology,
Genetics (the topic I like the most) ,
Endocrinology, metabolism and dermatology
Without asking about prices and cost.
Then I came home handing them like a trophee
'Mom, Dad, I bought scientific books' I said
My father almost spit his black coffee
And my mother jumped off from her bed.
Standing like the champion of a crucial fight
I was watching their eyes glow with delight.
Five minutes is all the time that it took
To let the idea jumble in their head and cook.
But suspicious as they are, they wanted a proof
So I exhibited the six new books with pride,
My overjoyed mother would've danced on the roof
And my father, from happiness, nearly died.
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2005 / 06 / 25 - A parking spot
Finding a spot to park in center Beirut
Is like growing a plant with no root,
Parkings are expensive, roads are full
You wouldn't find a place for a baby bull!
And when you finally find an empty space
You enter with other drivers in a race
So if you manage to get there first
You receive a million curses in a burst.
But trying to park your car in that spot
You hurry and you get furious and hot,
Drops of sweat, from your forehead, fall
Till you find that the place was too small.
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