The days cycle

The earth is drawing two halves in its cycle
Two parts .. From the time of terror ...
I can not endure the time .. whenever it swinging me……it swinging the child in my memory.. the more I increased in my weeping .
And the old lamenting hiding in the debate of the distances that lodging in me every time and I some time hold it with smiles and with my silent in other
That is me, I now draw between me and the lovers in the foxy session….. in two halves.. .. a picture of the spirit, while attached by the memories….. strangulated…… I don t endure the talk
What is between me and what gnaw in the convolutions of the foxy game
Morning permissible loss and the daily obsession
Good not blessing the day how it divided me
On my steps the shadow of the city crying the freedman havoc ...
Hunger of their sons to the life.
. and my hungry to see the gardens and streets inhabited by passion ..
By Lilies…by faces washed with satisfied.. .. .. by childhood guarded….by women with smiling mouths does not turn by the fear all the time .
.. The city was Inhabited in my internal ... I am singing to her to sleep in the hope of tired ..
. Hungrier
Hard-pressed ... then time squeezing my vein ..
Provoke the stray thoughts in the paths of truth and justice ...
And the flirt evening in the return of the self-to -self
.Return me every time to the zero
where childhood lodged me
.. and the monster the poetry
Grooves in my veins and drinks from my blood pictures of the imagination .. .
. tend to the dream
to love and releasing me from the headband of the facts ..
Provoke the suspicions… and fear .. .. and the hiding under the pillows ..
And the dream, the recklessness, and the memories
Good not blessing the monster the poetry
Good not blessing the day how it divided me
Abdel-Aziz Haider
2010baghdad

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