Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The past keeps popping up
Beneath our wondering eyes
The sound of some caress
Rises from a leafless tree.

We plot on the earth
We plot in the air
We follow the mystery
In these small facts.

It is dangerous to please
Among the world we live in
And it is better to keep silent
Then to listen to what is said.

Let us carry our discreet soul
In the green radiance
Of the woods whose heads we see
Blacken the blue firmament.

Our fertile laziness
Has the insight 
Of a man who, in drunken drunkenness
Seeks his lucidity.

Is a bit of a fool who composes
In prose or verse
Genius is a thing
That on looks at askew.

We are born to be a poet
The bag on the back
They take you for the comet
And charged with all the words.

If you have a pretty face
A little girl, while walking
Turns as you pass
And says, "Oh, how lovely he is".

We have wild fear
The pusillanimity 
Of a bird, living in a cage
Who seeks freedom.

We accuse the planet
Of turning too fast or not
When it's our heard
It's our head that's not moving.

Do you want me to tell you
The whole truth?
We harness stupidity
To the chariot of hilarity.

Philosophe, dream and pass
Dreams are our friends
Who we hunt
And catch without a license.

The tree is a morose dreamer,
Straight before eternity
A wrestler who rests
In all Serenity.

It sheltered the tenderness
Of lovers who came in the evening
At the hour when the sun goes down
Its gigantic mirror.

It is the soul of the bocage 
Of the forest the splendour
Where the bird takes its flight
And the while Lily its candour.

Of life is the emblem
The dearest memory
When you mark, in your flesh
The name of the one you love.

Moulay Cherif Chebihi Hassani