Taghrid Bou Merhi (Lebanon)
Lebanese Poetess, Writer, Translator.
Árabic teacher for non-native speakers. Living in Brazil. Holds a Law Degree. Development Coach at Sawa association for development.Editor of AL-ARABE TODAY Electronic Newspaper (Lebanon Branch) and RAINBOW Magazine.
Fluent in Arabic (native language), French, English, Portuguese, Italian and Spanish.
Team Member: Translators WITHOUT BORDERS into Portoguese and Italian.
Responsible for the Translation department at AGAREED LITERARY Magazine and AL-LAILaK Magazine.
She has published 4 collections of poetry. Her poems have been published in numerous international anthologies. She is a participant in numerous international poetry festivals where she has received awards and recognitions for her poetry.
She hás translated 8 book by poets Árabic and Hindu .
Published in various Literary magazines,journals, anthologies and websites.
Writing several guiding children’s stories and publishing them in the “Bird Children” magazine in Iraq.
Her poems have been translated into 20 language.
Every time I talk about philosophy,
I feel that I am a vile worm that gnaws at the bones of existentialism, and when I realize the triviality of my speech, I suddenly find that I have turned into an annoying fly that disturbs my thoughts or delusions.
Come with me if you want it is not an easy choice. .
The distance that separates us is between double brackets, watching for the extinction of the digital lineage.
And since I cannot change the first names, and being an easy prey, I will seize the opportunity and pass through your exalted being.
Where should I put your sticky mud, and the shortest distance between the murderer and the murdered for a blind gasp!
It is wise to wait for another philosopher to come out of the fog in order to listen to him together.
Perhaps his voice would be more beautiful than his white teeth, and his hand would be wide, like the balcony of our back house.
Come on, we ask for a cup of water. .
We pretend to count the stars, and gather the remaining dust in the sky.
And because you are my oil philosophy,
We supported from old tricks, fictional films, fortune tellers, war planes and warplanes, and spirited cars. .
It dug deep that damned worm, until the consciousness became a joke, and at the time there were slopes.
Accused of insanity
I, your honour, am accused of insanity
They said that my dreams have no wheels,
That the hand that grew on my palm ripped my face
And that my voice is just a picture hung on a wall.
I said: “one day stars will fall behind our backs, skyscrapers will drop from our pockets and the bats of memories will bash their heads”.
There is a pillow that rocks the world with its feet,
If crying was possible, I would have washed the rope of visions and dreams!
And if black gowns did not exaggerate in its finery, silence would have fallen down, stretching out its branches and biting on the edges of dreams.
Who will do me justice
When they said, this sin belongs to me!!
Who will listen to me
when I am half an illusion
Its tears was shed over the stolen features!!
And I have been here long enough
To give my ears to the crows
To make a paper kite
And to rave crying like a hunchback!!
And the punishment…
A life time…
Did you see him!
When he threw a cloak of thorns over my face
He made me shed tears, blood and sighs!!
I stopped caring your honour when my separated half… is my death
And I have been here long enough
To become an insane person
Shaking her weak voice
And leaning on papers!!!
I NEED YOUR VOICE
I need your voice to speak with,
But the wind is lavish
And the sea is mute.
I am splintered
My wound is deep
I am torn apart
And my whole is burning
Oh how I am shrouded in pain,
And is there but pain for who is full of longing
Like a stormy night fed up with the madness of rain
So Cut with your waves
For The wound will set you free
And Don’t break the foam sleeping in my lungs
Because between the sea of longing and this wound is a pact
Has your voice become ink
So I can pledge allegiance to it?!
Behind the madness of sea, lovers are walking!
Oh eyelid of my heart!
And these thorns are slapping it
Oh water sadness and silenced fire,
Is this endeavor a failure?
Silence ignites in the body of the poem
Dances with the clouds
Spins and spins
And your voice is like a harp
I wished it vocalised !!!