Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ben Younes Majen

A Migrant’s notebook

I was born an orphan
Amidst other orphans
God created our parents
Society conceived a home for the abandoned
At this home of stifling misery
Drunken with my own tears hot and salty
I suffer in this raucous eternity.
In Oujda, Lyon , Paris and London
I witnessed the light arising behind the Moroccan horizon
But it was soon darkened
By the nocturnal solitude
Within which I saw only the oblivion
I have been living in endurance and sufferance
Hand to mouth , under the shadow of a gigantic spider
Sprawling over a sunken wall.
In my dreams of dawns
I await with fervour, the hollow days fall

Time passed swiftly in languor
I saw birth of evasive days
Such was my monotonous refuge
Such was the end of my opaque space.
Each day
I sank deeper into the wreckage of the vacuous abyss
Under an insufferable pain , engulfed in my furtive tears.
I saw birth of universe and its eclipse,
Its sombre and abstract silence tormented my spirit.

In my dreams,
I’ve succumbed thousand times without regaining
consciousness,
But the sanctuary of my existence had become apathetic.

I, who search euphoria in the stars of this universe far away,
Like the calm of the nonchalant nights,
I let go of a mordant sigh
Under the arc of disarray.
I feel this desire to live, and to relive,
Once again, my unhappy and sparing childhood days.

I always believed that the unfinished human duel
Must save archaic stimulation
And the ancient evil that universe exerted upon us
And the total negation of the individual ,
To convince this society of recluses.

Here I was again ,
In quest of incense in the centre of my enigma,
There I found self interest in my divine destiny,
I was thereafter insipid.
Blinded by hatred,
So intense that my heart pounded at a casual love but
I, did not wish to die without acquiring the transcendental
wisdom,
Because I abhor lies
Subdued by the doctrine of contempt and of sorcery.

And giant’s steps, the time reversed across the migrating
twilight
O, wise king of the torrential rain,
Of the streaming rivers , of gigantic mountains, of rebellious
wind
Of the vagabonds.
For you only,

I licked my wounds and the injury of my invisible sighs .
O, wise king! my life is an extended sunflower upon an island

Cahier d’un immigré

Cahier d’un immigré

Je suis né orphelin.
Dans un milieu orphelin.
Tout le monde qui m\'entourais était aussi orphelin.
Dieu a crée le père et la mère,
et la société a concu l\'orphelinat.
Chez nous la misère était très rigoureuse.
J\'ai bu des larmes chaudes et salées.
J\'ai vêcu l\'éternité rauque.
A Oujda, Lyon, Paris et Londres,
J\'ai vu naitre la lumière dérrière l\'horizon marocain
foudroyé par la solitude nocturne.
J\'ai vu le néant.
J\'ai vêcu l\'endurance et l\'exile odieux.
Corps à corps, sous I\'ombre de I\'araignée géante
des murs concaves.
Dans mes rêves matinaux ;
j\'attendais avec ferveur la tombée des jours creux.


Le temps passait très vite et avec lassitude.
J\'ai vu naitre des jours évasifs.
C\'etait mon refuge monotone.
C\'etait l\'absolu de mon espace opaque.
Chaque jour,
j\'avance parmi les naufragés de l\'abime vide.
Sous la douleur amère, mes larmes furtives s\'engouffraient.
J\'ai vu naitre l\'univers et son éclipse.
Son silence sombre et abstrait tourmentait mon âme.
Et mes rêves,
j\'ai succombé mille fois sans prendre conscience.
Mais l\'asile de mon existence est devenu téméraire.
Moi qui cherche I\'euphorie dans les étoiles de cet univers
lointain.
Et comme le calme des nuits nonchalantes,
j\'ai poussé un soupir mordant
sous l\'arc du désarroi.
Je sens à nouveau ce desir de vivre et revivre,
en outre, mon enfance était frugale et exacerbée.


A pas de géant le temps se recule à travers le crépuscule
migrateur. Ô Roi-Sage de la pluie des torrents, des fleuves
ruisselants, de la montagne gigantesque, du vent
résistant et des vagabonds. Pour toi seul je lèche mes
blessures et la déchirure de mes soufflés invisibles.
Ô Roi-Sage ! Ma vie est un tournesol étendu sur une île
Close

A Migrant’s notebook

I was born an orphan
Amidst other orphans
God created our parents
Society conceived a home for the abandoned
At this home of stifling misery
Drunken with my own tears hot and salty
I suffer in this raucous eternity.
In Oujda, Lyon , Paris and London
I witnessed the light arising behind the Moroccan horizon
But it was soon darkened
By the nocturnal solitude
Within which I saw only the oblivion
I have been living in endurance and sufferance
Hand to mouth , under the shadow of a gigantic spider
Sprawling over a sunken wall.
In my dreams of dawns
I await with fervour, the hollow days fall

Time passed swiftly in languor
I saw birth of evasive days
Such was my monotonous refuge
Such was the end of my opaque space.
Each day
I sank deeper into the wreckage of the vacuous abyss
Under an insufferable pain , engulfed in my furtive tears.
I saw birth of universe and its eclipse,
Its sombre and abstract silence tormented my spirit.

In my dreams,
I’ve succumbed thousand times without regaining
consciousness,
But the sanctuary of my existence had become apathetic.

I, who search euphoria in the stars of this universe far away,
Like the calm of the nonchalant nights,
I let go of a mordant sigh
Under the arc of disarray.
I feel this desire to live, and to relive,
Once again, my unhappy and sparing childhood days.

I always believed that the unfinished human duel
Must save archaic stimulation
And the ancient evil that universe exerted upon us
And the total negation of the individual ,
To convince this society of recluses.

Here I was again ,
In quest of incense in the centre of my enigma,
There I found self interest in my divine destiny,
I was thereafter insipid.
Blinded by hatred,
So intense that my heart pounded at a casual love but
I, did not wish to die without acquiring the transcendental
wisdom,
Because I abhor lies
Subdued by the doctrine of contempt and of sorcery.

And giant’s steps, the time reversed across the migrating
twilight
O, wise king of the torrential rain,
Of the streaming rivers , of gigantic mountains, of rebellious
wind
Of the vagabonds.
For you only,

I licked my wounds and the injury of my invisible sighs .
O, wise king! my life is an extended sunflower upon an island

A Migrant’s notebook

I was born an orphan
Amidst other orphans
God created our parents
Society conceived a home for the abandoned
At this home of stifling misery
Drunken with my own tears hot and salty
I suffer in this raucous eternity.
In Oujda, Lyon , Paris and London
I witnessed the light arising behind the Moroccan horizon
But it was soon darkened
By the nocturnal solitude
Within which I saw only the oblivion
I have been living in endurance and sufferance
Hand to mouth , under the shadow of a gigantic spider
Sprawling over a sunken wall.
In my dreams of dawns
I await with fervour, the hollow days fall

Time passed swiftly in languor
I saw birth of evasive days
Such was my monotonous refuge
Such was the end of my opaque space.
Each day
I sank deeper into the wreckage of the vacuous abyss
Under an insufferable pain , engulfed in my furtive tears.
I saw birth of universe and its eclipse,
Its sombre and abstract silence tormented my spirit.

In my dreams,
I’ve succumbed thousand times without regaining
consciousness,
But the sanctuary of my existence had become apathetic.

I, who search euphoria in the stars of this universe far away,
Like the calm of the nonchalant nights,
I let go of a mordant sigh
Under the arc of disarray.
I feel this desire to live, and to relive,
Once again, my unhappy and sparing childhood days.

I always believed that the unfinished human duel
Must save archaic stimulation
And the ancient evil that universe exerted upon us
And the total negation of the individual ,
To convince this society of recluses.

Here I was again ,
In quest of incense in the centre of my enigma,
There I found self interest in my divine destiny,
I was thereafter insipid.
Blinded by hatred,
So intense that my heart pounded at a casual love but
I, did not wish to die without acquiring the transcendental
wisdom,
Because I abhor lies
Subdued by the doctrine of contempt and of sorcery.

And giant’s steps, the time reversed across the migrating
twilight
O, wise king of the torrential rain,
Of the streaming rivers , of gigantic mountains, of rebellious
wind
Of the vagabonds.
For you only,

I licked my wounds and the injury of my invisible sighs .
O, wise king! my life is an extended sunflower upon an island
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Literature Translation Institute of Korea
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