Flowers of Flame

The Poetry of IRAQ








                      

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Illusory Village


Khalil Al-Asadi


O lovely light

Passing away this night of love

You, enthralled by the stories in your blood:

By what the land said to the grass,

What the mountain said to the plains…


…The soul’s village opens its windows to see

How a star falls

How a cloud is torn by the wind

How fields look like medals on the shoulders of the land

How a women reaches orgasm

How the rain slaps me in the frosty nights.

There, hearths are brimful with fire.

A woman in love wears her slumber

Gets up warm in the morning….

Wait awhile!

You have gone back to love again

To die upon the altar of a woman…



From Her Book, One More Time


Ahmed Asheikh


When

Her seesaw is me and she is my seesaw

When

Her two doves are shivering in my fingers

And her cup is full of my wine

When

Her space is redolent of my kiss

And her kiss is swimming in my space

When

The organ pipes shudder and the violins get drunk

When

Golden deer fly through the sky

And the skin of the earth starts to tremble—

The pearl of weeping becomes a river of firebrands!

That’s how astonishment always comes out of her book!


Flowers of Flame
Copyright 2008 by Michigan State University