The Rose of Algiers

O moi! Qui est moi? En verité, je suis perdu
dans l’ivresse. Faites retentir la douceur
des musiques 
[et peut-être qu’alors je saurai.[i]

Tired of wandering through the centuries, I entered into an Andalusian Garden; not being able to find any resting place, I soon found myself drifting down the infinite alleys of cypress and orange trees, stepping repeatedly into the quiet patios with fountains and azulejos, breathing in the scents of amber and jasmine… I cannot tell for how long I walked aimlessly around the place, when I heard a familiar air playing somewhere in the distant valleys

Vivid sensations imprinted
on the flip side of my memory

the deep red sounds of the Earth

A vertical thought
A face in the mirror
Broken into pieces
A million stars

As dusk was falling upon
the forgotten Garden
I saw a shadow
A familiar figure

Passing me by

It posed for a brief moment
And looked back

My young Self
Smiling

A lovers’ first kiss
           The hummingbird

Singing
In the rose valleys

The labyrinths of the Casbah
The gaze
The kohl under the eyes and the rustling sounds of the haïk

The tasting of Cinsault
Red cherry, vanilla
musk

The presence of absence
Estrangement
Concepts, impressions
Forming           Slowly

I saw
I drank
I was

The Rose

 

[i] Abu Madyan, Sufi mystic and Sevillian poet. Died in Tlemcen, Algeria, 1198. Translation (Eng): Oh me! Who is me? Certainly, I am lost in drunkenness.
Fill the air with the sweetness of melodies
[and maybe then I will know.