POETIC DELIGHTS BY HAMID OQABI-YEMEN

 

1-Until the Night`s Last Breath

O enchanting innocent,

Stay with me till night’s last breath.

Let us not script the tale ahead,

For Shiva has lost his crown,

They say it’s a cloud that shades lovers.

He fashioned a new hat from blue bamboo,

Arrived hungry, mistaking it for bread,

He devoured it, then danced with glee,

Running forth to seek a woman.

We awaited the wind and the cloud,

Yet silence swept in,

Killing the song yet to be born.

Shiva forgot his name,

Wandering in a boundless vale.

O my miraculous love, why are you not here?

Chaos reigns in the sky,

And mad melodies dance on the earth.

The city has stripped its windows and doors,

Gathering traces of our steps and first kiss.

Shadows of virgin trees entwined,

While roses bloomed heavy with our dreams.

Suddenly, I found myself in that valley,

Crowded with hedgehogs,

Remembering my beloved Durga’s face,

Her laughter and songs of open windows.

I hear her whispers,

Stay with me until the night’s last breath.

2-The Sea

The sea conceals cities and villages,

Boats and countless treasures,

Swallowed long ago in its depths.

Time is a child that knows no age,

Yet its hair and nails grow long,

Like a wild thicket of thorns.

Its face turns yellow with acacia blooms,

As waves stretch their limbs to the shore,

Only to be devoured by the sands.

The waves dream of wandering through city alleys,

Carrying tales of buried towns,

Yet no one has learned their language.

3-My Final Verse

Jesus returned to reclaim his severed head,

Wandering through crowded streets,

Yet found no museum of mankind.

No one noticed him; angels offered no aid.

They say chaotic protests storm the sky,

A hundred days before Judgment Day.

God prepares to don the cloak of justice,

Having bought a hammer forged from light.

It is whispered to be a day of strife and turmoil.

Morning broke, the sun rose in the east,

Yet the day felt dull and lazy.

After a while, no one remembered what had passed.

Jesus found his head and chose to dwell

In the Aokigahara forest,

Where shadows whisper secrets.

Heaven decided to send a new prophet,

Choosing a poet from the Dark Ancient woods for this task.

Perhaps in a year, I will return to Sana'a,

Desiring nothing at all.

I seek only a cup of Sanaani wine,

To gaze at the sunset through a stained-glass window,

And write my final verse.

AUTHOR:

HAMID OQABI-YEMEN

Hamid Oqabi is a Yemeni-born novelist, screenwriter, film director,

poet, cultural critic, and peace advocate based in France. He has

published 17 novels, 6 poetry collections, 4 short story collections,

16 theatrical texts, and several books on literary and film criticism.

He has also directed 10 short films, exploring themes of exile,

memory, and cultural identity. Since 2018, he has led the Arab-

European Forum for Cinema and Theatre, which he founded to

promote artistic freedom, intercultural dialogue, and peace. Oqabi is

an active voice in contemporary Arab arts, fostering collaboration

across disciplines and borders.