Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen
The Lady's Banquet
She got up; the dawn broke
And the spirit's pillar looked shinning.
She got up; my blood shook,
The wall shook, the guards collapsed as orphans.
The magician cast his penknife in the kiln.
The tiger laughed.
The hedgehog wept.
Seven sins inside the spirit smiled.
The just king attended
Decorated with the sound of my blood,
My father's wildernesses
And the desires of the grandfather, involved in temptation.
I wept, the colors of the dream wept.
She got up so as to lower seven luxurious heavens
And down to earth restore brilliance to the dawn
And make the morning a prophet
And make the night childish
Dancing round the fire.
She got up to grant the hour
What the hour grants to water.
To grant obedience bitter riding
And to the sting her enjoyment.
To restore the black valley to the cold summer.
She got up; I reached out my hand
Toward her tender buds
Toward her fresh pear.
My palm spread out ….
When the apples lay down.
She got up; the light radiated and radiated.
My heart is blind.
My eyes penetrated into the valley the way a knife did.
My blood squatted.
My blood vibrated, purred like a wounded wolf.
The light was on.
Nothing but flowers separated
My love's finger or my grave.
The flowers adjacent as a drawing of frightened necks
Became nearer to me.
I looked at love's black valley.
I was a flame from foot to head.
The wild rain poured down.
The ground lightened and shook as clothes in the wind.
The kiln boiled up.
But I did not reach the valley.
I did not find out the well of curse,
The necks of flowers.
The wild rain poured down and burnt me
Like a thunderbolt on my throne.
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Comments about this poem (The Lady's Banquet by Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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