An old text

An old text

By :
Latifa Harbaoui
Algeria

Translated by :
Hassan Hegazy Hassan
Egypt

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When I decided to be no one,
a shadow  came out of my lame rib,
threatening to be me.

My shadow does not like politics,
but he goes to the ballot box
to electe his old president.

My shadow does not like
the diversity of parties.
It  is one  only party.


My shadow doesn't like the poetry I write
because I'm on the side of the country,
with those whose homes fell
on their heads in earthquakes,
With those who eat stale bread,
and dip their fingers in hunger,
who do not know "caviar"
and  don't eat croissants.
With those who cry stealthily
So that they don't hurt their mothers,
their parents, and the history
of their country.





My shadow doesn't care that wine is sold
in my country for twenty dinars,
and the people get drunk until morning,
and that the youth sing "Way-Way"
and die on the other side of the sea .


My shadow doesn't care
if our children have cancer
from shale gas.

My shadow cares
only about his big funds
in the Swiss Bank.

My shadow doesn't care
about anything ,
because he is nothing.

For me I will always remain
on the side of the country
I abhor and dislike shadow makers.

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