Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Abdellatif El Ouarari

I\'M JUST A THIEF

I am not a poet;
I am a bad tempered man
I quarrel with all those around me for the most trivial reasons
And am impelled to assault and accuse them wrongly
Amidst the guffaw of the foolish, recidivists and word suckers.
I show my ingratitude even to those to whom I owe everything
and look down on their favours.
I don’t know who led one like me to poetry,
I’ve been lying all this while using deaf words.
Poetry is a poor dumb thing,
It’s unable to get rid of bandits,
What can metaphors do
Against a flunky with stolen medals.
I am just a thief
I pillaged the heritage of the very best poets of the earth who worked so hard
To embrace the tree of life and say
“Good morning, O world”
To birds, flowers and memories that blossom at sunrise.
I bribed the Interpol police
And bargained with the associations of critics who wear thick glasses
I traded their postmodern deconstructive tools
With sale revenue from institutions for the disabled
And placed my potential enemies under house arrest.

I'm just a thief,
A very dangerous thief and an accomplice of the Arab regimes
I am a threat to the security of the world. I disturb its sleep with the shouts of my apocalyptic allegations.
I feel no shame or regret for what I’ve done so far.
I don’t understand what morals and laws say throughout the day
In order for me to repent and stop giving the obscene finger;
For I have no conscience.
As soon as the dark starless night falls
My nails, abscesses, and my hair spread out
My garment also lengthens dragging my sins behind me.
Here I am a poet with ashen time hunger
Lost in nightmares
Thinking the sky a gas engine
Wherein burn nameless entities
while thousands of hoarse poems
And flocks of white sea-birds
Writhe under rusty spears.

I'm just a thief,
Just a cretinous and gloomy dictionary
Trying to get away with damned words
And the sorrow of the world.

أنا مجرد لصّ

أنا مجرد لصّ

أنا لست شاعراً؛
أنا رجل سيء وحادّ الطباع
لأتفه الأسباب أخاصم الناس الذين حولي،
وأضطرّ أن أهتك أعراضهم وأتّهمهم بالباطل
وسط قهقهات النوكى وذوي السوابق ومصّاصي رحيق الكلمات.
حتى من أدين لهم بكلّ شيء
أنكر جميلهم وأبخس أفضالهم عليّ.
لا أعرف من قاد واحدًا مثلي إلى الشعر،
بقي يكذب عليه بكلمات صمّاء كل هذا الوقت.
الشعر مسكين لا لسان له،
لا سكّين بحوزته ليتخلّص من قاطع طريق مزعج،
ثم ماذا بوسع المجاز أن يفعل
أمام إمّعة بنياشين مسروقة.
أنا مجرد لصّ،
سطوت على تركة أجمل شعراء الأرض الذين أنفقوا ثمرًا طويلًا
لكي يُسلّموا على شجرة الحياة
ويقولوا للعصافير والزهور والذكريات التي تتفتح مع الشمس:
صباح الخير أيها العالم.
رشوت شرطة الأنتربول
وساومت جمعيات النقاد أصحاب النظارات الغليظة
وقايضت أدوات تفكيكهم ما بعد الحداثي
بإيرادات المبيعات من مؤسسات الإعاقة
ووضعت أعدائي المحتملين تحت الإقامة الاختيارية.
أنا مجرد لصّ،
لصّ خطير للغاية متواطئ مع النظام العربي
أهدد أمن العالم وأركل تخته بزعيق دعاواي القيامية،
ولا أشعر بالخزي أو أندم على ما كان منّي.
لا أعرف ماذا تحكي لي الأخلاق ونواميس الطبيعة طوال النهار،
من أجل أن أتعظ وأرعوي عن حركات أصبعي الممسوخة؛
لأنّي بلا ضمير.
ما إن يقدم الليل الذي بلا نجوم ولا كوى نور
حتى تطول أظافري وأشفار دماملي وذوائب شعري
وثوبي الذي يجرّ ذنوبي مع التراب يطول بدوره.
هكذا- شاعرًا بجوع الأزمنة الرمادية،
أتخبط في الكوابيس
وأحسب السماء دوّاسة بنزين
تحترق في جوفها كياناتٌ لا أسماء لها
وتتلوَّى آلاف القصائد المبحوحة
وأَسراب الزمَّج البيضاء
تحت الرماح الصدئة.
أنا مجرد لصّ،
مجرد قاموس قميء لا ضوء له
يريد أن ينفذ بجلده من نار الكلمة
وحزن العالم.
Close

I\'M JUST A THIEF

I am not a poet;
I am a bad tempered man
I quarrel with all those around me for the most trivial reasons
And am impelled to assault and accuse them wrongly
Amidst the guffaw of the foolish, recidivists and word suckers.
I show my ingratitude even to those to whom I owe everything
and look down on their favours.
I don’t know who led one like me to poetry,
I’ve been lying all this while using deaf words.
Poetry is a poor dumb thing,
It’s unable to get rid of bandits,
What can metaphors do
Against a flunky with stolen medals.
I am just a thief
I pillaged the heritage of the very best poets of the earth who worked so hard
To embrace the tree of life and say
“Good morning, O world”
To birds, flowers and memories that blossom at sunrise.
I bribed the Interpol police
And bargained with the associations of critics who wear thick glasses
I traded their postmodern deconstructive tools
With sale revenue from institutions for the disabled
And placed my potential enemies under house arrest.

I'm just a thief,
A very dangerous thief and an accomplice of the Arab regimes
I am a threat to the security of the world. I disturb its sleep with the shouts of my apocalyptic allegations.
I feel no shame or regret for what I’ve done so far.
I don’t understand what morals and laws say throughout the day
In order for me to repent and stop giving the obscene finger;
For I have no conscience.
As soon as the dark starless night falls
My nails, abscesses, and my hair spread out
My garment also lengthens dragging my sins behind me.
Here I am a poet with ashen time hunger
Lost in nightmares
Thinking the sky a gas engine
Wherein burn nameless entities
while thousands of hoarse poems
And flocks of white sea-birds
Writhe under rusty spears.

I'm just a thief,
Just a cretinous and gloomy dictionary
Trying to get away with damned words
And the sorrow of the world.

I\'M JUST A THIEF

I am not a poet;
I am a bad tempered man
I quarrel with all those around me for the most trivial reasons
And am impelled to assault and accuse them wrongly
Amidst the guffaw of the foolish, recidivists and word suckers.
I show my ingratitude even to those to whom I owe everything
and look down on their favours.
I don’t know who led one like me to poetry,
I’ve been lying all this while using deaf words.
Poetry is a poor dumb thing,
It’s unable to get rid of bandits,
What can metaphors do
Against a flunky with stolen medals.
I am just a thief
I pillaged the heritage of the very best poets of the earth who worked so hard
To embrace the tree of life and say
“Good morning, O world”
To birds, flowers and memories that blossom at sunrise.
I bribed the Interpol police
And bargained with the associations of critics who wear thick glasses
I traded their postmodern deconstructive tools
With sale revenue from institutions for the disabled
And placed my potential enemies under house arrest.

I'm just a thief,
A very dangerous thief and an accomplice of the Arab regimes
I am a threat to the security of the world. I disturb its sleep with the shouts of my apocalyptic allegations.
I feel no shame or regret for what I’ve done so far.
I don’t understand what morals and laws say throughout the day
In order for me to repent and stop giving the obscene finger;
For I have no conscience.
As soon as the dark starless night falls
My nails, abscesses, and my hair spread out
My garment also lengthens dragging my sins behind me.
Here I am a poet with ashen time hunger
Lost in nightmares
Thinking the sky a gas engine
Wherein burn nameless entities
while thousands of hoarse poems
And flocks of white sea-birds
Writhe under rusty spears.

I'm just a thief,
Just a cretinous and gloomy dictionary
Trying to get away with damned words
And the sorrow of the world.
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Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
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