Iraq
Iraq gets away
whenever his steps are widened
In the exiles
Iraq slows down
Whenever a half of a window is opened
I say: Ah
Iraq shivers
Whenever a shadow passes
I conceive either a muzzle to surveil me
or a labyrinth.
Iraq which we miss
A half of his history
Is songs and eyeliner
And the other half
Is tyrants.

Three Fragments of Dismay
(1)
My father said:
Don’t narrate your vision
To anyone
Since the street is booby-trapped
With ears
Each ear is moored with another
In a veiled wire
Until it reaches
To the Sultan.
(2)
When the General
Fells down from the hanging
When the bird draws its tour
In an open air
When our banners
Become blood-stained
Meanwhile
What can we do?
(3)
I’m sitting under the shadow
Of the statues
Clipping my dirty nails
Thinking about their
Luxurious glories
Those statues
which are erecting
In the squares
And uttering their loud guffaws
On a hungry nation
To build for them
More statues made of gold
And amulets.

A Patch of Homeland
The king got disconcerted
As he was seeing
His soldiers blockaded
Of all sides
And heavy field guns
Were demolishing
The mansion’s Castles
When he shouted:
- Where are my horses?
- Oh! Lord They were perished
- Where is my state minister?
- He escaped with your wife.
Since the battle started, sir.
The king hemmed and requlated
His gold crown with a sticky smile
On his lips
- Where are my kind people?
I haven’t seen them since years.
Suddenly
The people around the patch
Burst into Laugh
- You delayed so long
To remember us, sir.
And we have nothing to gain
Except to applaude
The new Victors.

Intifada Martyrs
Those who fell down into heaps
Before the guardians’ tanks
Those who dreamt so much in the land
Before they flew
with their white wings
And a cactus of oblivion
grew on their grave stones
Those whose news had been Corroded
Little by Little
In the City jam
They are Looking yet
To our abilities
With amazed eyes how
To forget them
So quickly.

Leaders
You will know them
From the shoes they left
Before they got defeated
You will know them, for sure
Those who filled up
The town’s pulpits
With drums’ noise
Of their braveries
On earth!
Where can we find them now?
To know how they heard
About the first shots
Before us
We who were
Just ears for them.

Accusation
As they were aligned
In the execution Courtyard
They gazed with shivery eyes
To the dark muzzles
Directed to their skinheads
But they didn’t see
The Killers’ eyes
Concealed behind
The long rifles row
Therefore
Their eyes remained
Gazing towards us…
And forever.

Hallaj
He was the Hallaj
Who uplifted me
To the highest floor
In Baghdad
And showed me
All minarets and mosques
As well as churches
With their bells
He beckoned on me and Said:
- Count
How many warm prayers
Go up daily
From depth of people
But none tried to rise up.

From his meaning
To his vision
To awake (Hallaj) up
So as to show him
How far on earth The tyrants ravaged
How far the jurists deviated
And what the guardians did.
 

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Translated by: Jawad wadi