Three poems of Souad Akouwari

The Beginning of the Talk

Dark clouds covering my horizon
I stand in the middle of the road
The road that has suddenly splited in front of me
O, last tired
How can I cure my broken soul?
And you, the passionate thought, you revolve around me
Like a phantom
Like an infinite space
Like a sick wind
Like darkness
You circle me
You increase like a noise
You increase, so, and I can’t go on...
I can’t resist
O, my weakness and failure
O, my heavy heart
How can I come to full life with half eye?
With a dubious memories

Escaping

When some doors were broken
I departed like a loser horse
In the interlinking lanes
In the coffees crowded by brokers and hypocrites
In color-schemed rooms
With strange features
With downward eyes
With empty skulls
I departed like a foolish wave
I hung on the sail of lost ship
I embraced my tired body

And it takes me the unknown

Modernist in the desert

We talk about many staff that we don’t understand
Modernists in the desert
The last joke in a world full of trivial jokes
Interested in this space like the butterflies of graveyard
But it is the desert
Sands cover everything
Boxthorn
Palm trees
Verses of poetry
Modernists
Interested in modernity
Does modernity born in the desert?
Modernity of palaces
Air conditioning hissing likes a snake
GSMs
Chatting rooms
But it is the desert
Wolf disguised a cute woman

Translated by
Prof: Abderrahmane Bou-Alli
University Mohamed First
Oujda- Morocco