Ali Al Hazmi (Saudi Arabia)

 
Ali Al Hazmi (Saudi Arabia)
 
Born in (Damad) – Saudi Arabia (1970).Participated in numerous recitals of poetry inside and outside of Saudi Arabia:
•International Poetry Festival Costa Rica 2013- Toledo, Spain 2014 – Punta del Este, Uruguay 2015- Madrid. Spain 2016- Havana, Cuba 2016- Medellín, Colombia 2016-Istanbul-Turkey, 2016- Roma 2017- Romania 2017
•The world Grand prize (forPotery ) International Academy Orient – Occident in Romania 2017. Medalof honor to the poetic and literary merit in the XIV Encuentro Internacional Poetas y Narradores De las Dos Orillas y 4o Congreso de Literatura 2015 , Punta del Este Uruguay. The poem (A street through a wall ) Grand prize Verbumlandi- international poems – Italy 2017.
He has published the following books of poetry:(Gate of the Body) Jeddah- 1993-(Losing)-Cairo 2000-(The gazelle drinks his image)-Beirut 2004- (Reassuring on the Edge)-Beirut 2009, (Now in past ) Arab Cultural Center- Beirut , 2018
Arab and international critics wrote about his poetic production Has six printed books translated to different languages:
 (Tree of absence )Translated into French-lilDiston – France 2016
 (Reassuring on the Edge) Translated into Spanish publishedby University
of Costa Rica Editorial 2013, House of Poetry Foundation.
 (Reassuring on the Edge) Translated into French- larmatan – Paris 2016
 (fragmentation of life) Translated into Turkish – Art Shop Istanbul -Turkey
2017
 ( A definite way in the mist)Translated into English and Romanian language –
Academy Orient – Occident – Romania 2017
 (Take Me to My Body ) Translated into Serbia – Alma- Belgrade 2019
 
 
Throwing Your Grief as a Rock into the Sea
 
In your forties,
Wingless,
You urge the meaning to fly once again,
As though you are powerful enough, once more, To step over the clouds.
Heading towards your own wilderness,
The winds put all sins of the tale upon your shoulders. Since you stopped at the gates of your past,
With chained legs,
Neither your years returned to the song,
Nor did the gorgeous girls come back
From the trees of childhood jocundly
To your fields.
In your forties,
There, near the springs,
Longing takes you towards the deers,
That no more listen to your songs,
When you feel their approaching foot-steps, And when the bird of words chirps
On a lonely branch in the heart.
You throw your grief like a rock into the sea And see your face burning
In the furnace of the lost painful moment.
 
In your forties,
When you are fastened
To the flutes on the shawl of a ballad,
Find a dove forgotten in your own travelling meaning. Do not exhaust the tender melody
With sighs of the memory that circle around your soul Like a bracelet.
In your forties,
The past assumes you are so close to its orchards,
While you are there still stuck in the wilderness of your fantasies. When you started your voyage
Towards your glittering metaphor,
You paid no attention to the thorny questions
Staring from afar at your feet.
In your forties on the roads,
No more you need to fold your shadows,
As you head towards the pleasures of life,
Trying to reach the lost bank of the river.
Memory asks, “When was it when you went bewildered In the presence of oblivion?”
What would have hurt your innocent past if you stopped At its noble gates for greeting,
For dropping off the burdens of rejection
That have watered your eyes with thirst of nothingness?”
In your forties,
A woman from the past visits you; Don’t be rude to her flutes
By asking about her distant love stories. Save her from the deceptive mills,
 
Restore her to pure joy,
And to her flowers;
Listen to the bird of her soul
Neglected in the trees of absence;
Be like soft rains for her if she goes astray; Be a metaphorical chord if she smiles; And be an existential passion,
If she looks at you.
But, when you approach her extensive fires, Be nothing but ashes.
 

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