In The Bus That is Frantically Rushing from Cairo to Port Said
by Admiral Mahic
I could have gotten married in Egypt
With one sun ray,
That is masterfully openinig gates of fields
in front of the bus that is frantically rushing
from Cairo to Port Said …
Beside me, the eyes of
Egyptian children are flying by, as fireflies, gentle embers,
while secret papyrus is getting dry
under the foundations of clay houses
overflowed with colors of sun,
a toasted barracks sigh for the waves of the Nile
and seared soldiers are drinking water in the desert as woodpeckers,
helpless but quick.
You can not summon the dead
if theu turn away from you. You can not summon the living
if they turn away from you.
And at the Cairo cemetery the living live there.
From tombstone to tombstone the laundry is drying.
And above the cemetery the antennas are shining as light up chrysanthemum.
And all the flats on the planet earth are cemeteries
from which you should rise as prophets …
Every day, our nothingness, should be tease.
No army should be taken seriously, with weapons.
All skyscrapers are taken for a haircut by wind.
But I fantasize about what I want.
Lumps of clouds and trees are my treasures.
Clean look and a kiss – gold and silver.
One thinks if he has a castle
that he had escaped from death to gold,
the other is seeking immortality in the bedroom through the castle,
the third is publicly showing magic cloak of truth
below which the body converts into the space bird …
Nobody owns the body, until death.
Now I know,
food products from the time of Ramses III were fresher.
The beer from the first wheat and first date palm was drank,
in which the date was not imprinted.
The laces of garlic were celebrated.
The Prayes were sent to the salad that inflamed amorous ardor.
And with space cosmetics, they were fine –
With turpentine resin and incenses they rubbed the desert
to preserve it’s scattered scent of
ventilation.
So the friendly and clean aliens did,
Who brought the eye of Osiris,
All-seeing eye, much experienced sun,
A Window that is walking through dead people!
Deep holes are dug by esoteric wind,
sinkholes in the sand desert
strive to the Nile source with
the cosmic whirlpools …
All this in an unmarried desert rays
At the sunset brown as date palm
while the wind beats the overdone brick with the sand
and Vesna wants to kiss me. And I
gasped at the yellow sand, at the poor homes,
at the golden donkey towards whom the children are running
to ask him about its health …
I want to kiss the Sphinx!
Vesna is ridinh a camel, the camel is riding through the desert, desert is in the
universe. And what next?!
And I Set out with gigantic steps across the sky.
But we are here, just here, in the sunset …
As if the ocean winds in front of us, the Nile washes the laundry of space …
And what next?
American from our bus is photographing
A sunset behind a military base …
Vesna loves an American.
True book creates out of nothing.
Treason creates nothing out of all.
Return to Love -boys and girls
whinnie happily, who are running around the desert.
But I swim in the flooded catacomb,
The authentic worlds have sunk into the ground, everyone except me,
and I swim in circles before drowning and I wait to get in,
through the winding Nile, in the sand sinkhole, the vortex of the source, but
I do not have a girl, who si coming out of the hot water of the Nile
into the night for me,
pharaoh of tenderness, Admiral of infinity waves,
coming from the center of the earth …
I only have a ray of the setting sun …
I really could have gotten married in Egypt
without anyone or anything
With a ray of the setting sun
But the bus had gone
into the past of
my future.
Admiral
Copyright ©:
Admiral Mahic
A few random poems:
- Little Girl Dancing by Susan King Saunders
- Владимир Маяковский – Чугунные штаны
- Sergei Esenin (Serguei Yesenin, Sergueï Essénine) – Sounds of Sorrow
- Many Inventions by Rudyard Kipling
- I Begin To Think by Satish Verma
- On Count Voronstov poem – Alexander Pushkin
- Epigram on Rough Roads by Robert Burns
- Алексей Толстой – Войдем сюда; здесь меж руин
- Alameda by Paul Blackburn
- Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground by Stephen Crane
- Colors by Stephen Vincent Benet
- A Royal Home-Coming poem – Alfred Austin
- The Hero by Rabindranath Tagore
- They are Cruel by Rixa White
- Beginning my Studies. by Walt Whitman
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: My Peggy’s Charms:
- Robert Burns: Braving Angry Winter’s Storms:
- Robert Burns: The Banks Of The Devon:
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruikshank:
- Robert Burns: A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk:
- Robert Burns: Blythe Was She:
- Robert Burns: On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit : A wild scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre.
- Robert Burns: The Bonie Lass Of Albany:
- Robert Burns: Theniel Menzies’ Bonie Mary:
- Robert Burns: Lady Onlie, Honest Lucky:
- Robert Burns: Castle Gordon:
- Robert Burns: Strathallan’s Lament:
- Robert Burns: Epigram On Parting With A Kind Host In The Highlands:
- Robert Burns: Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch-Ness.: Written with a Pencil on the Spot.
- Robert Burns: The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water: To the noble Duke of Athole.
- Robert Burns: The Birks Of Aberfeldy:
- Robert Burns: Verses Written With A Pencil Over the Chimney-piece in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth.:
- Robert Burns: The Libeller’s Self-Reproof:
- Robert Burns: The Poet’s Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic: My imprudent lines were answered, very petulantly, by somebody, I believe, a Rev. Mr. Hamilton. In a MS., where I met the answer, I wrote below:-
- Robert Burns: Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.: Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.
More external links (open in a new tab):
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Search engines:
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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works