In Time

I wouldn’t love the past you,
but the past me definitely would
just as I fell in love with the present you now,
so even the present me loves the old you –
that how time is really entangled;
some theory says time is linear,
some says something totally different,
but I’m starting to see
that time’s been really just about you.

Benyamin Bensalah


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


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

When a universe tears apart

I’ve never considered myself living,
I’m the most dead without you

I’ve never considered myself happy,
I’m the saddest without you

I’ve never considered myself hopeful,
I’m the most hopeless without you

I’ve never considered myself normal,
I’m the normalest around you

I’ve never considered myself concerned,
I’m the most concerned about you.

Benyamin Bensalah



Standing on the edge of this forgotten galaxy,
we are guarding a life,
an innocent future
that we sent behind bars
to live on water and bread,
then we guard it with all powers
something that we didn’t let to live
that is already
in a place that has no escape,
but we are still guarding –
we don’t mind to look at it,
it would make us cry,
but we are the guards
who need to bear
the lost
of a life.

Benyamin Bensalah



No more good nights,
No more talks
About our future goals –

There’s no discussing,
Only chatting
Like a labored cussing –

Is it here, or we are cold,
Our blanket is unfold
Sewn from words untold –

There’s the blanket flying,
Distantly defying
The frozen drops of crying –

No more close thoughts,
No more decent talks –
We are gone in distant holes.

Benyamin Bensalah


Loveless essay

Love is the strongest amongst human instincts –
so beautiful and so urging
that gives meaning to this meaningless carcass;
however, instincts can be overwritten
such as killing the self is possible.

Love is complex and built up in us –
we saw it from our parents
at least those who’ve seen any;
for the ones who missed that chance,
love remains an abstract concept.

Love is built on beautiful insticts and ugly humans –
human constructs that judge,
select, favorize and exile the ones out of scope;
such outcasts may ask what is a body,
what is wealth or health in their depair.

Love is relied to something that is healthy –
so what responsability it is
to eager for it even if you are mentally ill;
infecting others with your ominous stance,
injecting all bad into something all good.

Love is blind and easy to anyone –
it’s a source of ecstasy to all,
but it’s a struggle to build it up;
some are lacking all above,
Welcome to Me.

Benyamin Bensalah



I give you a fist big ruby diamond,
Hang it around your neck and watch it shine on
Above your heart, in the middle of your breast,
Marvel how it glows, like embers, its lustre.

I weave a crown with my eyes for you,
As a goddess, I come to you so
I lay your way with silk and rhymes,
But don’t walk on it – it grows sighs.

If you’re thirsty, I’ll give you the finest wine,
But I leave a few darkening tears inside
And if you feel that the taste is bitter -,
Just drink it, there is no sweeter.

When your body feels cold, I give you my soul,
I wrap your two shoulders with velvet shawl.
And my trembling brain if you’re hungry -,
With me, you’ll be never needy.

And if your tired body wants to rest,
Rest in my arms, – there is no softer bed
And because you will need protection one day:
Accept, please, accept my arms to stay.

Accept them, and do with them whatever you feel,
Though you can’t be cruel to me.
Even if you don’t come, they will all remain yours,
They won’t be called back by weak hours.

Benyamin Bensalah


Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “NAGY AJÁNDÉKOK TORA” (1922).

Dat moment

The very moment I felt peace

had no aggregate;

I could not grave in stone as I wished,

had no time;

as if I’ve been such happy timelessly,

had no details;

only peace in my heart and mind,

but it had a name

which is yours

such as I am.

Benyamin Bensalah