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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.
© Translation: 2018, Norddine Zouitni
First published on Poetry International, 2018

التعديل الأخير تم: 27/03/2018