It just happened

And there was a woman,
with the finest scent in her hair,
with thoughts that mortals barely dare,
with the smoothest skin that angels wear,
with strong heart and face, but lightsome silhouette,
who made me forget to regret,
not a minute, not a violated ettiquette,
not our past, and especially not our present duet.
Juli, Júlia, Julika and Juliette,
only names inside the mind of a poet,
but what the readers cannot read in that,
is that, my heart found peace, peace, peace the moment we met.

Benyamin Bensalah


Horses down the beetling height

Not a horseman, nor a coach,
The horses are down the high pitched coast;
Only a weak whip-like reproach
Made the horses run from their own ghost.

Down the hill, the horses flying
Into the deep like doomed pegasuses’ hymen;
The neighs and waves are crying,
Replying the peaceful song of a fiendish siren.

Before the dark water turns to scarlet,
It paints a mad reflection of them horror haunted;
A demerited dark life-span mindset
That vanishes in the wild waves delighted.

Benyamin Bensalah


Check mate

She played on my chessboard without strategy,
never wanted winning just a tragedy,
took my Queen and me with her fallacy
playing her dirty rhapsody:

Crying violins from our world’s violence –
who wouldn’t hear it with heart ?
Outraging piano to hope there is change –
who wouldn’t hear it with heart ?
Sweet harp summoning the peace of a harpy –
who wouldn’t hear it with heart ?

The heart is the weakest point to bait,
even a mastermind would have a checkmate.

Benyamin Bensalah


A Dream in Vienna

Dream if a dream, or either a hallucination,
My heart stuck on a land, in a city, at places.
I can’t help it, even if I would, I wish I could
Free my mind from my heart’s ceaseless call.

What if it was real? So what if was not?
The landscape revived my heart, then took it.
It painted green and red a grey stone,
Then, it felt no shame, stole it.

As if a child been playing at the Danube
With stones in the hand to throw it,
So that my heart went with the flow,
And here’s my mind to follow it.

I’m looking for traces where is that dream;
In the city, named Vienna.
What happened there? Why is this ease-,
Happiness- and grief-dyed dilemma?

The city is living, but it’s silent, no answers.
Rather, its streets walk hand in hand –
Days and nights, silently,
Its trolleys wear knowing smile seeing each other –
No rail can separate them forever,
Its elegant houses cuddle together –
Inside them, thousands of secrets,
Its grass in the parks are camping daylong –
Changing their places while caressing each other,
Its sky is the blanket of freedom –
Nobody can dream what happens under’,
Then, its river,
Danube that if only could run backwards,
Only could return my heart and mind,
Letting me leave from dream to dream,
Leaving this reality for another
Dream if a dream, but it happened
That I was living
With the city
Of Vienna.

Benyamin Bensalah