Farness tempts with sadness

Farness tempts with sadness
By :
Ahmad Qarran Al zahrany
Translated by :
Hassan Hegazy Hassan
( Egypt )

-1-
A window and a door are between me and the shade,
Between me and my name, there is a possibility of suspicion,
fear  is obsessed with itself,
Stammering of an orphan child,
Playing of farness that is certain of sadness,
A declared death,
And a fate launches for absence.

-2-
I am no longer the guitar of the distant,
0r the sound of the conscience.
I am not a friend of the lovers,
I do not have much space on the earth,
The strangers will not stand my alienation,
Why all this weariness drives me out from the mirror,
My face is no longer my face,
Or my eyes are the way of the passers-by,
I am not a vague color in the dumb painting,
I am gelatinous like the scent of the roses,
Sick like a letter, deviated from its companions,
As I am, really, the writing and the book.
-3-
In the phase, riddles are  scolding  me
and a steadfast saying in the uncertainty,
I have nothing but the expansion of the circles of the unknown,
I do not enumerate the sins of those who are tired,
I will not exaggerate the details of the story,
The adventurer does not give shadow,
Nor am I writing  about everything that concerns my conscience,
I'm not alone buried  in  the time,
Some light hides the cause of things,
It gives her face the equivalent meaning,
I'm not alone here.
By  justice, I judge between my hidden goals,
I am neither water nor my shade is dust.
-4-
And I am infatuated with the narcissistic stories,
With fancy, with fun,
By the founding saying  for  the poem,
My suspicions do not preoccupy me,
I am fond of wandering without the follies of lovers,
Without the confusion of the opposites,
I only tell what the wise  should  say,
My speech is a moment of the unseen,
My silence is painful from where I don't know,
And some of me  is not from me,
I am a fairy tale in the first sentence  of  the  gloomy dream,
My inclinations are a flock of words covered inside
 the emotion of the deluded  lover,
He comes fictitious, not aware of the travel,
Alone, I am  fond  of  playing,
My song is the weeping of the farness,   
The parallel  melody does not tempt  me,
In my tales, Beethoven is not my opponent or Ziryab.

***