Ola hosamou

Translated by : Mohsen elbelasy

_A life in a cardboard box

In a very small carton
I gave birth to me.
Without any sound.
Without any color.
Without any name.

Butterflies hovering around me grimace – tigers, dogs.
The horses jumble out like goblins with severed tongues.
The deers sway like a dancers with camouflaged dresses.

Soldiers flare their nostrils, they try to catch the direction of the scent…

There is no smell here.
The air is hidden in a small slit in my chest, 

and my chest is hidden in a small slit in the sidewalk. 

There among the weeds that have wearied from proliferation, despite the pedals.

Soldiers crudely extend their tongues at protruding nipples.
They try to pick up the taste to point their guns.

There is no taste here.
No light here.
Nothing here.
I extend my open body as a lonely lotus flower on the surface of this world.

I swallow all  the butterflies, horses and deer around me.
From sidewalks, streets and cities.
Then vanish softly as disaster.

In a tight carton box
I swap jokes with myself.

With No sound.
No color.
No trace.
And around me, the soldiers are running without legs,

And crying without eyes.

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