Before this happened… what were you?

I was a girl pampered with poetry… but then fate arrived…

Ameen Saleh Ali Ajeeb, a poet from Sudan, shares his poetry

Ameen Saleh Ali Ajeeb was born on 17/09/1960 in Omdurman – North Beit Al-Mal, Sudan. He studied at the Faculty of Agriculture, Al-Azhar University, Egypt.

Whispering Soliloquy

Before this happened… what were you?

I was a girl pampered with poetry… but then fate arrived…

This is a branch of basil; if its camphor does not heal, it will become the pain of the vein…

So, how was the pus after the martyr’s blood was shed…?

I told her as the branch leaned towards her, weeping…

Truly, my girl, I know your only meaning…

Love, then love, and the agony of relentless separation…

Will time really take you back to see the distant martyr?

For whoever is buried in the soil as a martyr, we shall surely recite for him Surah Al-Hadid…

And this becomes the lesson!

We shall pour upon his chest drops of tears from those who lost their way…

Until the day comes to visit the martyr…!

His grave today is fragrant with the scent of musk,

Anointed with fresh camphor…

And all that remains for you, my girl, is the sting of the sun and the bitter cold of winter,

On the day you see the birds soaring above your martyr’s grave…

The one whose body fell, drenched in abundant blood,

Sacrificing himself for a great nation…

Surely, my girl, you will see what the blood has written for you…

It has written…!

We were, on that day, in a meeting never to be forgotten by the Almighty…

For He is the Planner and the All-Seeing…!

So, I ask you to recite Al-Fatiha for him and offer abundant prayers…

***

The Palace Princess

We were young, playing by the sea,

We built a sandcastle with open doors,

The guards were asleep, and the princess was awake,

Embroidering a red dress…!

We built a bridge and planted a tree,

We made a stream but did not build a pond,

And the guards were asleep, while the princess was awake,

Embroidering a red dress…!

A wind howled in the sea,

The sea raged and threw its foam,

The water flooded the stream,

The bridge collapsed and flowed into the castle,

And the guards were asleep, while the princess was awake,

Embroidering a red dress…!

We made a boat out of paper,

And we called out to the princess with many cheers,

But the guards were asleep, while the princess was awake,

Embroidering a red dress…!

The princess wore her red dress,

We boarded the boat after the castle collapsed,

Leaving the guards asleep…!

And we sailed to a distant valley…!

***

Am I an Infant?

I grasped a hand in greeting, and its lines spoke to me

With the desire of union…!

I did not believe my false perception

In the language of fatal passion…!

I know that her scent resembles that of a nursing child…!

I wished to kiss her breasts,

Not the mole inscribed on her blushing cheek,

Radiating with her enduring longing…!

Today, the thought crossed my mind to tear her dress,

So I could hear the noise…!!

The noise of rounded breasts crowned with fire,

And the ravenous nipple was a bridge

For me to taste the flavor of milk…?

Am I truly an infant, or have I mistaken the address of the mosque…?

For she is my sheikha,

And I have become addicted to the scent of musk,

Sandalwood, and incense…!

Her charcoal burner blazes with triumphant, glowing embers…!

Would my sheikha grant me warmth

Beneath her thick cover,

Aged with the scent of a fallen breast…!

Her blue cloak is my blanket,

And what lies beneath it

Is my shelter from the heretic winter,

Where my torment groans…!

So I content myself with sighs and the bloody desire,

When the gaze of a lost man strays into her eyes,

And I keep searching for him,

Wandering like him in a fleeing cloud,

Dreading the fall…!

Am I an infant…?

***

The Truffle

The polar bear carried me before the ice melted…!

A voyage on the back of a tamed and stubborn bear…!

I pulled a sled of firewood,

With a sled dog leading the way…!

I did not sense betrayal from a loyal animal…

He searched with me for the truffle beneath the ice…!

I caught abundant fish for him…!

And he unearthed for me the alluring mushroom…!

The one that stirs the scepter of bodily revolution,

And the moan of longing when the two desires meet…!

And so it was, when I lit the firewood,

There was warmth…

The dog dug with his paws,

And unearthed for me my coveted mushroom…!

The memory of my body will not forget,

For my dog knows it is the food of pleasure,

The fire of longing,

And the spark of passion…!

That is the truffle I desire, the most delicious…!

So what will happen when the ice melts…?

Yes, the saplings will be moved to gardens and hospitals,

My dog will cease his howling,

The bear will wail in sorrow,

And I will disappear,

Adorned in a belt and attire,

Celebrating the spring…!

While my dog lies with his arms stretched in surrender…!

 

Illumination:

The truffle… a fungus that grows in the ice,

It has physical strength and immunity akin to caviar.

___________________ 

Read: Give us life – Poetry from Sudan