Glitched page

I’m like a semi-important page to print,
you don’t know why I’m important
by the second the queue gets stuck
I stay on pending with all the error before me,
then when you finally face the pain,
to restart the machine, you see the absence;
the absence of some semi-important page –
you search the folders for documents,
you try to track a trace on your browser,
but there’s nothing important alike,
then with a semi-sadness,
you accept to forget a page
that has never existed,
a glitch.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.10.2021

Lőrinc Szabó: LIFE

Will it worth it? was it worth it?
Curve that was in line.
Where is the strength and the luck?
What casts you off? Who leads you in?
From her, to her, in her, for her,
at her, to her, though not, why not,
to here, from there, there too, not here,
then if, so that, and so, though not,
always, once, impossible,
oh, go on, no, not that, no, no,
sometimes though, never again,
with her, to there, for ever after:
how many opened and lost roads,
how many traps, how many zigzags,
dying slowly, killing fast,
inside the heart, out in fate,
and to believe there’s a winner – loser,
we get to the line:

was it worth it? will it worth it?

Benyamin Bensalah

30.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Lőrinc Szabó, “ÉLET”.

The Walk

I can’t compare myself to none,
but to some images I saw on TV
how skin and bone lions abandon
every drop of zeal:

They walk, leave stone by stone,
kicking the dust alone
with a barren look on the barren
fighting for no more.

Why eating, cleaning? Where to go?
It’s a must to go…
Belonging to nowhere,
they are just in constant leaving.

They are unaccepted, exiled –
some days might’ve been different,
but now days and nights
conclude them as indifferent.

We are walking; walking is a must:
no place, no time needs us,
only escaping what remains to us,
then, we finally join the dust.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.04.2021

Ervin Kibédi: Something came to intervene. . .

You nurtured a dream in your heart’s deepness;
Preserving the renewing spring
Giving the dying world a new chance
Easing the complaints’ sting,
Handing all awaiting flowers an advance.
But nature dressed in mourning scene.
You can’t change it, you see hence;
Something always came, came to intervene.

A decaying cell, a disgusting theory,
A war or a moment of calming
Death of a martyr or loss of a tyranny
Maybe joy or just suffering?!
You fought with the harsh times vainly,
You protected your instincts in vain
You were weak or had good energy;
Something always came, came to intervene.

And there your mother waited for the last hour
Preparing her final speech
So deserted, so lonely dour
You set out to say something at least
You’d like to at least! – but you just missed the hour-
To reassure, to comfort her
And you will have no more;
Something always came, came to intervene.

Like a child watching a flying ball
That a female hand throws awkwardly,
You would have expected your work to pay it all
Thus solving all problems of life with no worry.
You always hoped so with a childish call;
That you can stop the time you’ve been,
You wanted to, but you couldn’t at all
Something always came, came to intervene.

As a fine breeze of secrets on a summer evening
You were touched by the love of worth
You thought you were just looking for a seeking!
But the wound in your heart just got worse.
Even Cupid, love itself as being
Was watching over you in vain;
It’s over, gone, for what you are crawling
Something always came, came to intervene.

You wanted to describe the big study,
Creating a melody that’s eternal
Wiping away tears from the human body,
Such questions never let you rest at all.
You were carving a statue, the chisel got shoddy
And everything was broken before seen
Would you like to start again? God! – it’s tardy!
Something always came, came to intervene.

Where did the mates, good friends go
All that remained is the blind yourself.
How they all loved and how they flattered though!
You believed them and cheated on yourself.
Once upon a time, so much was expected of you
Now they are whispering behind the scene,
The trouble was, maybe slowly you get through:
Something always came, came to intervene.

Fresh meat has long been covered with green mold,
The marble cracks thinly
You suspect and feel that something is being rolled,
That your life is disappearing dimly.
There’s none to do but to stand, wait, behold
Like a chased wild among the silent trees.
You wanted to live, getting old –
But it can’t be: – Something intervenes.

Benyamin Bensalah

14.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Ervin Kibédi, “Valami közbejött. . .”.

Jenő Heltai: Questionnaire

When your tortured heart goes silent,
A big questionnaire will be your defiant.

What your motionless lips sigh,
An invisible clerk will take notes by.

What you are going to answer – because you have to answer! –
Where did you let your life go to disaster?

Where did you turn left instead of right?
Answer! Do you know the cursed time?

If you were given a divine miracle,
Say: would you go back there empirical?

Like seeking the handle of a lost axe,
Would you start again the long road’s acts?

While pursuing desire and urging trouble,
Would you dare to run another Marathon?

All that is vile, lying, and false,
Would you go through it, say, through the same faults?

Why? Why?! For new goals? Or…
To get where you are now?

So that, forgetting all the old torments,
You can cry and fray again with no ends?

For this cheap misery as a prize
For this more bitter than sweet, tiny life?

Benyamin Bensalah

10.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Jenő Heltai, “Kérdőív”.

Play On

Have you ever asked the toy
you were playing with
if it liked to be your toy?
It is all nice that it’s a toy,
fulfilling its purpose
to play with, innit?
No matter leaving it
in the darkness of the night
for hours, right?
Or forgetting it in hurry
while preparing
for a hell of a weekend.
No thoughts of such
as the first minute hurts
just as the 1440th and so.
The minute of turning off the light
heading out or to the fridge
hurts the same infinity.
You haven’t thought about it
how is it to be alone
have you?
How is it to swing
between having a purpose
and being in senseful nonexistence?
Oh, how would you
when your grief lasts no more
than a minute when it disappears?

Benyamin Bensalah

06.07.2021

Course

Life serves us lessons all the time
most of them are unwanted
coming from something else wanted
unasked, coming from something else asked
unprepared, being for something else prepared
we pretend they haven’t happened
until they come back again and again
till we learn the lesson
being another us
to pretend
we are ready for the next lesson
that will never happen.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.07.2021

Ma cabre

Every species developed their means
to perceive the surrounding
as well, every individual has its own design;
the birds crossing the sea,
the fish below where we can’t see,
the bugs dancing in ultraviolet.

So did I inherit and developed mine
of sensing this magnitude
to end my own design;
the trucks, the train, the cars,
the cigs, the drugs, the scars,
the heights’ and depths’ draw.

It’s ceaselessly pulling me hard,
sometimes I’m running
sometimes I accept this design;
pulling against, pushing for it,
crying – numbing, it remains horrid,
being in a force without control.

Benyamin Bensalah

30.05.2021