Poem
Ahmed Barakat
Black pain
Black is the waste matter of the daily bloodBlack too is the special colour of the wound machines
And pain is black pleasure
Black is the stains on the ground
Of the burnt human oil
It is the oxide of thick fatigue on the eyes of cats
And pain is the broken mewing in the dark
In the chain of fire
In the ash of the aged fingers on the asphalt
In the child’s decapitated head on the road
Black pain
Is also all this smoke
Which the wall breathes through iron lungs
© Translation: 2004, Norddine Zouitni
BLACK PAIN
Poems
Poems of Ahmed Barakat
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Black pain
Black is the waste matter of the daily bloodBlack too is the special colour of the wound machines
And pain is black pleasure
Black is the stains on the ground
Of the burnt human oil
It is the oxide of thick fatigue on the eyes of cats
And pain is the broken mewing in the dark
In the chain of fire
In the ash of the aged fingers on the asphalt
In the child’s decapitated head on the road
Black pain
Is also all this smoke
Which the wall breathes through iron lungs
© 2004, Norddine Zouitni
Black pain
Black is the waste matter of the daily bloodBlack too is the special colour of the wound machines
And pain is black pleasure
Black is the stains on the ground
Of the burnt human oil
It is the oxide of thick fatigue on the eyes of cats
And pain is the broken mewing in the dark
In the chain of fire
In the ash of the aged fingers on the asphalt
In the child’s decapitated head on the road
Black pain
Is also all this smoke
Which the wall breathes through iron lungs
© 2004, Norddine Zouitni
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