J’écris mon Secret Désir

J’écris mon secret désir:

J’ai tenté de le défendre avec mes yeux,
Mais j’ai regardé autour de moi et j’étais au pied
du mur.
Le destin m’avait trouvé.

Ma côte est cassée,
Et je ne trouve personne pour me soigner.

Mon corps est frêle,
Et je ne vois devant moi aucun allègement.

Devant moi, la mer tumultueuse,
Le pays m’appelle encore.
Mais je vogue dans mon esprit.

Les impies m’ont assassiné dans ma maison.

Je rêve de quelqu’un qui me donnerait du
réconfort;
La nuit je ne peux pas dormir, dans ma bouche un
goût de bile.

Les larmes du désir d’un autre être m’affectent;
Ma poitrine ne peut accueillir l’immensité de
l’émotion.

Le Livre d’Allah me console,
Et atténue les peines que j’endure.
Le Livre d’Allah adoucit mes douleurs,
Bien qu’on lui a déclaré la guerre.

Je me tiens droit et souris à la figure de la misère.
Je suis satisfait.

Oh Père, dis à celui qui pleure,
“Ne m’oublie pas, comme je ne t’oublierai pas”
Il comprendra ma condition.

Et lorsque tu frôleras les choses familières de la vie –
Les tapis bédouins, les branches entrelacées,
Le vol des tourterelles –
Souviens toi de moi.

Je salue tous les frères,
Et prie pour que la paix accompagne les fidèles.
Je dis salam à Shwayman,
Et à tous ceux que j’aime,
Et à tous ceux qui me manquent.
N’oublie pas, prie Allah pour ceux aimés de moi.
Peut-être qu’Allah, dans Sa Grande Clémence, aura
pitié de moi.

–Abdullah Majid Al Noaimi, former Guantanamo detainee

Read this poem in English

 

I Write My Hidden Longing

I write my hidden longing:

I tried to defend him with my eyes,
But I looked around and was cornered.
Destiny had found me.

My rib is broken,
And I can find no one to heal me.

My body is frail,
And I can see no relief ahead.

Before me is a tumultuous sea;
The land continues to call me.
But I am sailing in my thoughts.

The ingenious have murdered me in my home.

I wish someone would comfort me;
At night I taste bile and cannot sleep.

The tears of someone else’s longing are affecting me;
My chest cannot take the vastness of emotion.

The Book of God consoles me,
And dulls the pains I have suffered.
The Book of God assuages my misery,
Even though they declared war against it.

I stand tall and smile in the face of misery.
I am satisfied.

Oh Father, tell the tearful one,
“Do not forget me, as I do not forget you.”
He will understand my condition.

And when you pass by life’s familiar objects–
The Bedouin rugs, the bound branches,
The flight of pigeons–
Remember me.

I salute the brothers,
And pray peace to those who remain faithful.
I say hello to Shwayman.
And to everyone whom I love,
And to everyone who misses me.

Remember, pray to God for those whom I love.
Maybe God, with His Kindness, will have Mercy on me.

 

–Abdullah Majid Al Noaimi, former Guantanamo detainee

Lire ce poème en français

 

My Heart Was Wounded by the Strangeness

My heart was wounded by the strangeness.
Now poetry has rolled up his sleeves, showing a long arm.

Time passes. The hands of the clock deceive us.
Time is precious and the minutes are limited.

Do not blame the poet who comes to your land,
Inspired, arranging rhymes.

Oh brother, who need not be named, I send you
My gift of greetings. I send heavily falling rains

To quench your thirst and show my gratitude.
My poem will comfort you and ease your burdens.

If you blame yourself, my poem will appease you.
My mind is not heavy with animosity.

I will be satisfied once you are free, and I will embrace you.
There is nothing, brother, like a mild agreeable temper.

I will offer advice out of pure cordiality–
Advice from one who has experienced the impossible:

You will not gain everything your soul desires;
Some things will come to you, but others will not.

Forget what people say and be satisfied with who you are.
Patience, the bony animal, will lead you to meat.

Be generous to others, brother,
And leave behind your avaricious spirit.

If your brother has hurt you,
Recall his good deeds and the pain will go away.

Hide the sadness of your heart as in a valley.
Make it your captive; if released, it will make you suffer.

No matter how long our separation lasts, I will not forget you.
What is hidden in our hearts is expressed in my words.

You are precious and grow more precious.
He who has companions like you will never lose dignity.

I hope that your nights will always be cheerful.
May the Lord compensate you for what you have lost.

I ask the Merciful One to guide you to peace.
May the Lord keep you fast on the path of virtue.

I conclude my poem by invoking prayers and blessings,
On the Messenger of Allah, Ahmed, his chosen one.

— Abdulla Majid Al Noaimi, Guantanamo Detainee