Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Seated Woman...

Listen to the song, the wind’s murmur,
the seated woman waits before the dune
for sunset to launch his love song
song of pleasure,
the woman is allowed to explore his melancholy court,
she laughs, she cries her joy, sorrow,
the desire to share his life

she seeks the path that leads to unconsciousness,
shadows engulf
and two opposites meet,
unconsciousness and consciousness,
the woman seeks the light that fuelled his desires,
their forms caress empty space
from which springs oblivion, the hazy universe
A peaceful world, odours multiply,
scent blown into in the wind,
his courting voice speaks of love, profound love,
The life force passing through all landscapes.
Landscapes of joy, the mixture of laughters,
landscapes melancholy and sad.
The woman is plunged into the black of night,
his only lover
the dune and grains of sand
rolling like tiny beads,
She fears the night, fears it all,
she hears her baby crying,
It is his beating heart.

Nothing to be done but to take courage
in the depths of his soul,
she strokes the soft sand,
but in vain,
there is no no cushion or bed nearby.
Suddenly, a light arises, revealing all
it is the moon come to keep him company,
the dune becomes as great as a tent,
sheltering the whole tribe,
The woman breathed in and spoke these words,
you are my baby girl and a new life is born
a life, a hope of survival,
The black curtain opens,
fear dissolves and the courting resumes its soft rhythm,
the woman sits waiting for the drumbeat
that opens the dawn
and says life hangs by a thread,
when the courtyard opens, he understands all.

Souéloum Diagho 

( Acontemporary Tuareg poet, comes from Tessalit in the North of Mali. He is author and editor of the 2001 work Poésies touareg : le chant des saisons(Tuareg poetry: Song of the seasons), a collection of some 175 traditional poems. Although primarily writing in French, he is in the tradition of Ghaylan ibn 'Uqbah, seeing the Tuareg as quintessentially Keltamacheq (speakers of Tamasheq), nomads of the desert. His poems speak of the desert, a space swarming with life, palpitating like the heart of planet, the richness of its silence and the force of its people. He comments on our Western world and on our fears.)

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