Treasure Island

Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen


An Attempt At Seeing


Tears besieged me as a tank besieged
A blind man in the wilderness.
Tears of forty-years old are a superstition.
Music in tears is childhood.
Dance in tears is the extremist madness.
The letter in tears is my poetry,
O blind man.
How did I get lost ? How ?
Who threw me in the fathomless vale
Buried me in the desert,
Planted me in the belly
Of a lost cloud ?
Who made me run
Behind the sun's tail to the death ?
When would my language stop delirium ?
It is you .. you
Who celebrate my death
And forget yours.
It is you
Who is lost in my body and time's body.
Have you given heed to tears ?
Have you given heed to death at the door ?
And to love breaking down like a mountain of snow ?
Have you given heed to your tears ?
After I had spent seventy centuries
In appearing in the sun's tail
That was full of blood, dust, and moan
I found nothing but words, words, and words.
Words of tears,
Letters of tears,
Dots of tears.
What made me so lost ?
Do tell me !
O, my age !
O, mountain of tears

Submitted: Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (An Attempt At Seeing by Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]