Ne’er no’ere

Science tells us, time and space are not the thing
that makes us dependent, but
we make them up, just to
feel dependent.

As not being depending on any or to any
time and space keeps drifting,
merging and vortexing
with you nowhere.

Even your cereblar synopses warp,
plunging you in sharp dark,
throwing in deep blaze
your dizzy image.

Childhood feelings, romance,
pain of bruises, torments
keep mashing up
your moments.

In such an end, you if you,
or rather your shadow
drift in nowhere
and nowhen.

Bensalah Benyamin

01.12.2020

What a bad habit

…that drinking ruins my life?
Hah, already ruined,
and the simple fact that I’m alive
is already a part of paying the price.

Actually, there are days I can live
with the thought of myself,
and also there are when I have no money,
so my drinking is in balance.

But… if you mentioned drinking,
could you lend me some pennies?
You know, I’m a bit short of…
…reason to live.

Benyamin Bensalah

30.11.2020

Kata Csongrádi: SUNTHEM

The Sunbeam doesn’t ask
How much its light is worth
The Sunbeam doesn’t ask
What it will get in return
The Sunbeam doesn’t ponder
It just flows brightening.
Infinite caress and cuddle
but he does not ask for paying.

Love like the Sun, unconditionally
Like the Sun, which is built heartly.
Like the sun, born of light
Like the Sun, creating bright.

All people are a ray of light,
part of the universe
Who think they are just a byte,
But they are a part of the whole biodiverse.
All people are a ray of light,
one of the infinity.
All people are a ray of light,
but they do not dare to believe in reality.

Love like the Sun, unconditionally
Like the Sun, which is built heartly.
Like the sun, born of light
Like the Sun, creating bright.
Love by creating bright!

Benyamin Bensalah

24.09.2020

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Kata Csongrádi, “Naphimnusz”(2005).

Let it hurt if it has to hurt

My heart is an empty stack,
For what, only myself deserves smack,
But it hurts.

Whoever falls into it
Will hang with me in it,
Such as: but it hurts!

My life’s a lifeless winter,
It’s snowing my head so sinister,
But it hurts.

My venom broke out if it would dare,
If there were anger, would you dare,
A lord of pain who hurts.

Although fate would finally give a way,
I’m not waiting only to give away,
So, let it hurt if it has to hurt.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.12.2017

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Fájjon ha fájni kell.”

Attila József: WINTER

A big, big fire should be settled,
To let the people warm up.

Throwing on it everything that is antique, junks,
Shattered, broken and what is new and whole,
Children’s toy, – oh, happy hare and hounds!  –
And heaving on it everything that’s beautiful.

A hot flame would sing to the sky about it
And it would hold in its hands everyone’s properties.

A big, big fire should be settled,
Since the cities, the grounds are frostbitten …
To tear open the handles of the frosted cell
And light it up, to make everything heaten.

That fire, oh, should be settled,
To let the people warm up!

Benyamin Bensalah

20.09.2020

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Tél” (1922).

Pierre Reverdy : Late in life

I’m hard

I’m tender
  
                             and I lost my time
                             dreaming without sleeping
                             sleeping while walking

wherever I passed by
I found my absence
I am nowhere

Except the nothingness
but I’m hiding at the top of the bowels
At the place where the lightning has hit too often
a heart where every word left its keenness
and where my life drops to the slightest move.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.09.2020

Translated from the French poem of Pierre Reverdy, “Tard dans la vie”(1960).

Amourtisseur

The pressure, pressure and pressure,
year to year, day to day
from people, people and situations
is smashing, crashing every one of us
with all possible forces.

Where is the possible counterforce
that could be against,
that could save you from breaking,
that could save others to explode on them
with a dark mushroom-cloud of anger?

What could be better counterforce
than just simply smiling,
and dissolve the pressure of others,
bringing a bright day into the cosmic mess
with radioactive kindness!

Benyamin Bensalah

10.09.2020

Riceology

Boiling rice may be a bogey;
We are cooking, stirring, working on it,
Then, we get a gluing paste for our fatigue.

But boiling rice is a simple act;
Only if you’re following a couple fact,
My scientific, tricky receipt step by step.

Firstly, you measure the rice;
Take a mug once and twice and thrice,
So you see, it’s science, not a play of dice.

Then, the water is coming,
And here is my first trick coming;
How many times you must be mugging?

An ordinary cooker,
Would take double water,
Pouring six mugs of fresh blunder.

But me! The chef Benyamin,
I choose to put three and a half in,
Letting the rice to swim, not sinking.

But above all of this,
Here are my other magic tricks;
Frying the rice for five mins or six.

After it got golden brown,
I pour hot water on it muggly owned,
Then, I leave the rice under a cover to boil.

After lil lodge-podgy,
We can check our moody foodie;
And it was the first lesson of riceology.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.10.2017

Void

I’ve seen the light as a nameless kitten –
One amongst many of a couple,
I still remember the care of my mother
Even if there was no time to cuddle.

It was the time my eyes just opened –
Without seeing play and cheer,
Just a couple of months before
Our little mother did dissapear.

Remained alone, me and my brothers –
Day and night we feared dogs,
Then, just like our weakling mother,
Hunger kicked us out of the box.

                        ***

I became a lone-wolf street-cat –
Walking from alley to alley,
Living on the waste of others’,
But I had a change of story.

One night, I met a grey figure –
Sitting at the pavement,
He looked on me with silent care,
And took me to his apartment.

I got a home under his bookshelf –
Full of Nietzsche and Freud,
The grey fellow fed me with milk
and named me: Void.

                        ***

The years went quickly like days –
My man was a strange one,
Sometimes sad, sometimes moody,
But we had a lot of fun.

There was always a weekly party –
With philosopher friends;
I myself was a part of this,
I wished it never ends.

On the nights, everyone was happy –
People laughing overjoyed,
Talking longly seriously, then laughing:
“Look, there’s looking us Void!!”

                        ***

I was always waiting the weekly parties –
Tho I also liked the silent nights,
Sitting next to my reading thinker
Hushing away his sighs.

One night, the party friends didn’t come –
There was a woman instead,
I spent such nights under the sky
While they were in bed.

Firstly, I was still happy for this –
Seeing my man ever happy,
But once the woman didn’t come,
The house became an alley.

                        ***

Silence sat on our days with my man-
Greyness stole all his delight,
I couldn’t hush away any of his sighs,
He didn’t read or write.

One night, I came home from roaming –
I was terribly hungry then,
Found my milk and food prepared,
But without signs of my man.

The house seemed and sounded empty –
I felt my man, but I was annoyed;
So I found him hanging from the ceiling,
Wishing I was never named Void.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.08.2020