Author: Zaki Monzer

Rightness don’t wait for bridges,
Nor time,
At times you stand on the right side,
Others you just won’t be right in time,
We’ll die and we’ll be alright,
Feeding on your downfall,
Fearing kids coming up,
Waiting your eyes,
Searching in a dawn,
Their long lost fathers,
Craved ones too,
Since it was their time,
Knights of the night,
We’re lost under a sun,
Waiting for our time,
And everything will eventually be alright,
But we won’t be there,
With us.

I saw the wind,
Outside myself,
I saw the dark times,
Outside myself,
I saw everyone in roses,
Outside yourself,
I saw the yellow kid i need,
Outside a corner,
The tea was burning,
Outside our lungs,
I was in the making, would’ve been saved,
But i went outside.

I saw the wind,
Outside winter,
The monsters we ignored,
Outside the wind,
The truth is that everyone is left out there,
On the outside,
While roses were all,
Outside your skin,
We were left stranded on the long way home,
Both me and home,
Outside.

Cup of day,
Through days of doors,
That tells you to ask,
If it’s also a movie,
For trees, for your trees,
Holding your tears,
Like oranges, like brushes of sun,
Like i hold my head,
Holding to colors,
That you won’t color,
Only in my heart I’ll see,
When i hold a book,
Like your head, i won’t read,
You’ll run
You’re the one who runs, I’ll scream,
I’ll go, You’ll stick to a sky,
I won’t reach,
Full of colors,
Only of you,
Fishes of your world,
The joy of a lamp,
Reflecting my hand,
All yours the light,
All yours, the light.

ركضت مع الله مساءً،
لم يسبقني،
ولكنه كان أمامي،
أسعى نحوه في الظلام،
ذاهبُ منه إليه،
لم أسبقه،
وهو ورائي في كل شيئ :
نسيم الهواء المنقطع، وحدة الذكريات الساكتة..
ركضنا سوياً،
مع أنه أسرع مني بأبدية،
ولكن إنتظرني،
حتى أنا لم أنتظرني؛
أفقت في السابع عشر ربيعاً تحت وهج الشمس،
وأركض لذات السبب كل يوم،
إنما ليس اليوم،
اليوم ركضت مع الله مساءً.

I know I,
I’m bound to stay,
In the ocean of tears,
That i will never fear.

I know I,
I’m destined to run,
In the glimmering lights,
Of dark tracks & selves.

I know I,
I’m programed to stay,
At the childhood carpet,
In the system of dawn,
With the moon sun of life.

I don’t know I,
Which pencil to choose,
To carve our names
To stay in trees, castles,
Chambers of lost feelings, dreams.

I don’t know I,
Ways of heaven and hell,
I can’t even choose what to eat,
Ways to roll at each lap.


I don’t know I,
Where grandma went,
When she’s still opening doors,
Every night all the same clouds.


I know, I’m at the sea,
The usual one,
I know I’m the route,
The usual one,
I don’t know where to find them
The usual ones,
When I’m east to find,
At the usual one,
Something filled up my heart with nothing,
Someone told me not to cry.

إلهي،
إن المسير أضحى عبارة عن فائض،
فائض من أجوبة، دون سؤال
فائض من سؤال، دون نهر حب
فائض من نهر حب، دون بحر قلب
فائض من قلب، دون قالب ينهمر به، دون تعب
فائض من التعب، دون احلام
فائض من الاحلام، دون نوم
فائض من النوم، دون قدرة
فائض من القدرة، دون أمل
فائض من الأمل، دون وجهة
فائض من وجهة، دون شقاء
فائض من شقاء، دون دعاء
فائض من دعاء، دون إيمان
فائض من إيمان، دون يدين، وجوارح وشفتين، تركضان إلى أنهار شوق منسية،
تغرس نفسها في لمحات ذاكرة مرجوة ان تتلاحق، أن يبحر إليها، أن يتنور الوجود بها كما تُطهِر مسير من بهِا،
إلهي هذا فائض ووعائي منحتم الضيق، كشريان تاجي، لا يقوى.

Yesterday i was human,
Who forgot the face of his head,
But he had a good heart that heald the sand,
Today i am no longer human,
I woke up and greated my mom,
Now i am a train station,
Heading to black lights,
Tomorrow i am train seated, i can’t wait..
God created me this way,
Because i always liked people who were train seated in train stations heading to black lights,
I want to sit at the back seat next to the window.

We love everyone from first sight,
All being, has been seen for the first time,
Every person, animal, leaf, cell,
Even without realizing,
So it’s just an abstract expression when associated with one,
Happens all the time through everyone,
But what make the universe split for it all,
What decides what comes next, is the next second after it..
Infinity dwells in it,
The second after we saw,
With hearts,
We either pour our ego to make meaning, forget, hate, beautify, befriend, what we saw,
Or we make it, them, pour into us, to flow with the winds of time
To what’s next beyond ourselves,
Maybe for the rest of ourselves,
But nothing is ours,
We love everyone from first sight,
And no one is ours,
Not even ourselves,
Ourselves that we never loved,
Since we never saw yet,
And we envy who did,
In that second second of time,
And in such rare sight,
We either hate them,
Or we walk together through midnight’s sand.

They can read now,
We welcomed the vagabonds,
On yearning doors,
Then later we were found,
By buzzing flies of our dreams,
We were swinging on trees,
With dolphins tears now.

To be a man,
Is to seek unknown men from unknown times,
Swinging on trees,
Trees of ink, tearing happily, the ink,
Standing at creation’s judgment,
Reciting what you created,
Not now..
Not now,
Someday, maybe,
Like distant men,
But my brothers are vagabonds..
Can i ask for another chance at the shore ?
On the chores of people i hate,
Because they are no dolphins, no men.

Move! Uncover the bone,
The honey rivers of dolls,
Uncovering buildings, cities, spots we both know,
Visited, but never saw,
Ran upon, but never ran on,
Like someone’s back,
His face is all the sky,
When you hear books,
Telling your heart :
Go get it.. and leave books, leave mars,
Leave your grandma’s jars,
Stop the swimming,
Dolphins teared the sea,
Come back to where you were, are,
The furrowed hair of rascals,
Waiting on the shore,
The lurking wind of the horizon,
Hidden beneath the sand,
Waiting for you ?
Asking for me.

Can’t reach the gate,
For demons got no counter play,
And angels got a counter point,
And she got exam deadlines on display,
She doesn’t know yet,
Yet she whispers on the notebook,
Like someone’s back,
Are you happy now ?

We survived terrors of pillows,
We can survive the shores beneath the sand.

We often stand, because we don’t like to moving,
And when something moves a way, tragically, sadly,
We call for such a moment,
To not only not to move,
But not to speak too,
As if it’s a protest against life itself like
“Look we are not going that way, maybe for a little while, but what we are saying is that : we are here, and silent, and alone, in a place we limited, alone, we are going to say it, and we are announcing it, that we are in pain.. maybe more, but we are only going to have it for a short while”
Because our souls were not built to endure the silence much more,
But is it ?
What if there is no one on the other side caring for our silence we are trying to make a meaning of only for us ?
And on the other side there’s silence, not trying to make a meaning, or hear it..
And the life we are trying to stand againt is not against us,
And if it’s the fate we are trying to protest on, also we’re not a victims of it ?
What if we broke the silence,
Who cares for our ill-manners ?
What if they cared ?
Who would see it, hear it, this non-silence ?
What if the entirety of our lives, studying, eating, going, writing, watching, socializing.. is just an act of a moment of silence ?

I think I’ll take a moment against silence itself, and click undo, for the rest of my life.