Finished, but unfinished

No one loves me, not even one,
Not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Loving and being loved, it’s them…

No one feels me, not even one,
I’m not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Feeling and being felt, it’s them…

No one hears me, not even one,
They’re not animal, not a human –
Monsters, they’re called by the man;
Seeing and hearing, it’s not them…

Benyamin Bensalah

11.09.2018

Attila József: Motivating

In China, there’s hanging tangerine.
Today has killed the cocaine.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep.
Today has killed the cocaine.

Through the window of the store
Till the cashier, sees the poor.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep.
Till the cashier, sees the poor.

Take a sausage and take some bread,
keep well your living breath.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep,
keep well your living breath.

Whoever will cook, will kiss, too,
once, there will be a woman, too.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep,
once, there will be a woman, too.

Benyamin Bensalah

31.01.2020

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Biztató” (1927).

A Promenade in Strange City

The taps are just steps on this land,
No old friend calls me from the childhood,
No near familiarity where I stand,
Nor from the far place where I stood.

My mind, eye and heart are all out,
Only my ears are listening to my strange steps,
Where’s all the peace I heard about,
Wandering on the new, strange lands.

Then, a tap is sounded; a tap and another,
My childhood is echoing back from a dimension,
I can’t drop a tear, so I walk rather,
Walk, walk, walk… Maybe out of sensation.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.11.2017

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

04.11.2016

The pit

It’s a great pain, but I merit
Because I’m a man who said it,
So, if I said it to merit, let me get it,
All of it:
The pit
Without exit
Dark, not lit
Tight, but fit
Just sit
In it
Don’t omit
It
Just sit
In it
In the pit
That you merit
As you said it
So you have it
The pit
In it
Your shit
You’ve done it
You merit
It
And to quit
Just re-commit
It
In the pit
Before a visit
That gets you out of it
Just to give you a hit
Next to it
Back to it
Giving you the credit
That you do merit
It
And you belong to it
The pit
As habitat and habit
And to commit
It
Back in it
Till you quit
Because it is it
What you merit
Stay down in it
Till you say it
And believe it
That you merit
It
The pit.

Benyamin Bensalah

22.12.2019

A recipe from the trash

There are a couple of dishes
Which are so easy to make;
Meanwhile, so practical…

… Having as easy recipes
As popularity does;
Common fixings:

Pinch of knife spices –
Fake life and smileys –
Some exotics on high prices –
Erotic pics and other vices –
New cooking devices –
Smatterer advices –
All that’s good –
All that’s bad –
And it’s done –
You are gone.

But when someone is alone, all recipes are in the trash;
We focus only on surviving.

Benyamin Bensalah

05.07.2018

To the poet, Attila

We could have been children,
Rich and irresponsible –
Men having not a problem
That wouldn’t be disputable.

The life could be a play, for us;
Instead, the life was playing with us –
We were told whom to be, by others,
Without friends, sisters, brothers.

We could see the world happy,
But we had been inheridely saddy –
Even though, our heart was welcoming,
One after another badly wrecking.

It could be all different for us,
But there came only burden on us –
We, whom the light kept escaping,
Have seen the world as cheating.

We could be a member of this madness,
When I remember the disinheritance –
We both are particularly alone,
Homelessly, silently dying alone.

Benyamin Bensalah

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Attilànak”(2008)

21.09.2018