(painting: Pablo picasso)
When Arab adolescence strikes football
In the fenced ground of the Corniche Park
A Sudanese guy who sits on the nearby stone bench
Feels the thrill on his legs
For the one who knows to strike a goal
The biggest hunger is to strike the ball
And me? I don't' have a name
When the fisherman swims away
Loosing his boat and net in the flood
And faces a group of huge sharks
He gets a chill on his spine
When one of the cutest babies
Among the nursery kids cries loudly
Milk oozes from the nun's breast
The swimmer
Crawls on a camel
In the desert
I don't want anything else
Only the ball and opponents
Let thousands or millions come
Let the goal post be miles away
I don't want anything else
Once, on the tenth floor
While carrying the cement bag
One moment, just for a moment,
The sun tempted like a big ball
While surging ahead with the ball
In the sky ground
The blow came unexpected
Its mark is still on the back
There are balls, which can be tackled by anybody
No, not all the movements forward
End up in goals
And there are no games without fouls
Even in dreams
In the ground in front now
No Arab children are left
Only ball, ball, ball
It moves on its own
This side and that side
Runs out of the ground
Surges to the goal post
Sometimes hides somewhere
In pure solitude
And very secretly
The ball looks at me and smiles
A throb of the destiny
On the fingers of the legs
When the ground became
Empty of balls and legs
Two legs began to dance
Between the evening and night
Translation:: Ismail Meladi
ismail.meladi@gmail.com
http://ismailmeladi.blogspot.com/
