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Diurnal (Poem)-يومية

Oh! From the morning when sadness
wraps my life. And when I look in
the mirror the seasons of the tragedy
become naked.
The drops of water are cold,
cold as lovers’ night in their autumn

I bury my thoughts in the headlines;
I search in vain for a crime or a war
The newspaper’s ink leaves my finger-
print over the tea cup and the cigarette.
When the world around me cries, I think
about how lovely it is to add another spoon
of sugar to my tea.

I step on the street, a fugitive.
The yellow bus, a can of sardines,
corners me.
I hurry my steps to become hostage
to a red light.
I swallow the gloominess of the morning
and I bitterly wait.

On the top of my desk, the heap of filth,
I throw my papers.
Flies with a distinct smell surround me, they
are waiting. Waiting for me.
I vomit, inside, in silence.
My lips refused the sadness and threaten
me with scandal.
The whores become so daring, I pretend that
I was smiling.

The second drink?
I emptied the first in a minute.
I loosen my tie a little.
I play with my matches..
The heavy smell of cheap powder evaporates
with the crack of a laughter.
The heap of meat, burps, and repeats
an old silly story.
In a hurry I pay my bill and leave, dragging
my heavy feet.

As old bones, the key moans inside
my door.
I throw what the day had carried
on the floor.
The ghosts of night have come with
their dreadful steps.
I am still staring at the mirror, and
the drops of water still cold. Cold
as a lover’s night in their autumn

S.A. Kornas

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