One day

One day,
Solitude must be killed.
One day,
Someone must come to kill it.
One day,
My heart must be filled.
One day,
Someone must come to fill it.

O! That day,
Will be like a wondrous amaze.
O! That day,
I can’t wait for it to come.
O! That day,
Will be like a delirious daze.
O! That day,
I don’t wait for it to come.

One day,
My solitude will be tried.
One day,
Someone will come to kill it.
That day,
My heart will have died.
That day,
Someone will come to leave it.

O! One day,
My solitude will be supreme.
O! One day,
No one comes to break it.
O! One day,
My soul starts an eternal dream.
O! One day,
It won’t be feasible to wake it.

Benyamin Bensalah


A Day-Mare Poet

The sweetest dream
                           seems a mere nightmare,
The yesterday aches
                           by all pain of the future,
The present things
                         remain as they were,
All the disasters
                     of the news are neutral.

Drink liqueur,
                  opiates or other drugs,
None of them
                  makes you feel alive,
But they may help
                        to forget all the goods,
Before the peace,
                       in form of death, arrives.

Bite on the lips
                    that get kiss only by ruth,
Stay in silence
                   on all the fake conversation,
Test whether
                  you’re asleep or it’s the truth,
Then, enjoy the curse
                     of being a poet.

Benyamin Bensalah


Don’t judge by my cover

You, who pass by my book
(For the most part, innocent women),
And leave your regard on me;
Please, be aware.

I know how attractive I can be
With my strong book jacket,
The exotic title on my front,
And the well crafted words in me…
But please, just be aware:

My well-educated manner is none
But the cruel life’s handwriting;
My papers are from trees
Watered with poison,
And they themselves cried with sorry
For the holder of these pages
While being cutting out.

Please, be aware,
And turn away that look,
Drown to death the mere desire
To have a look at my pages;
It won’t be my fault…

At the end, it will be just you,
The fool who desired reading
Not beyond, but beneath living.

Benyamin Bensalah

27.12 2019

On the borderline

I am neither happy, neither sad;
I’m an empty – empty lad,
Waiting for some and someone’s care;
But having got it, I barely care.

It’s hard to believe that I’m loved;
I hate myself un- and be-loved,
Fearing that this hate is catching;
And I ever remain unmatching.

None could bear being so burdened;
I fear and seek abandonment,
Being burden on my own and else;
Death offers the only solace.

I’m on the borderline of living and dead;
I’ve pushed away everything I had,
Unknowingly who I am, but it’s not an excuse;
I have only social misuse.

I doubt if ever I could share this life;
Should I ever share this life,
While words are so easy to share;
But what being shares despair?

Benyamin Bensalah


Circling circle

Like a frozen stone
Without a glance being blown,
I got thrown away.

I was flying in silence,
Then, I moaned up without resilience
On a brick.

Through an eaves,
I fell into the stream’s waves,
Unheard, unhurt.

Frozen imprisonment
Where the jailer is the detachment,
Not somewhat cold.

The spring is sobbing,
Its tears are smoothly rushing,
Pushing to a land.

Among stones standing,
Patience is suffocating, ending,
Drying crying.

Smooth hands,
Promising their hold never ends,
They disbanded.

In a new stream,
Me and solitude in a team,
But it’s all fine.

Sleeping is the only way,
Not seeing when we’re thrown away,
Again, again.

Benyamin Bensalah


Translated from my own Hungarian poem, Kör kört követ.