Cells, synapses and other symptoms

There’s a jail amongst the jails
inside my darkest noesis,
writing doctrines, sending mails,
formulating theses:

Why do I love you?

The thought of freedom is so sweet,
the sunshine is so teasing;
I don’t even have the time to read –
your jail is just pleasing.

Benyamin Bensalah


An Ocean in Red

Like the water needs the bed,

like it needs the gravity to stay there,

like it needs the current to remain fresh,

like it needs a biosphere to have a purpose

I am in need of your presence to enliven my planet.

Benyamin Bensalah



This case is heavy;
everything’s in action –
let’s call for it a proper study
and make it elementary, dear Watson.

Here’s Iodine in red
that says nothing else
than someone’s injured health
is in need of a proper repair of cells.

We’ve got Lutetium, Vanadium
as a huge amount of consistent property
that may indicate an ongoing chemo-therapy
killing the disease of the mind rather than the body.

Then, we’ve got charged Uranium
that is up to fission to get a way lighter,
being ready to be a self and shared energizer
getting its treatment to vibe as a two-three highfiver.

See? Isn’t the case easy?
It’s a matter of chain-reaction.
Outcome? I’m pretty sure we’ll see.
Though, it’s still elementary, dear Watson.

Benyamin Bensalah


Attila József: What your heart is hiding

To Freud’s eightieth

What your heart is hiding
let your eyes to open that;
what your eyes are sighting
let you heart to wait for that.

In love – it’s said –
every living dies.
But happiness is like bread
we need a mouthful to vitalize.

And every living is but a child
longing for a mothering lap.
They go wild if they don’t get mild-
on the battlefield of wedding bed.

Be like the one being destroyed
wanting to reach the eighties
like the youth escaping the void
making a million of babies.

There are no more old days’
thorns broken into your feet.
Neither in your heart stays
more fear from a deathly defeat.

What your eyes are sighting
let your hands to grab that.
Whom your heart is hiding
either forget or have that!

Benyamin Bensalah


Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Amit szivedbe rejtesz” (1936).

Play me

Just play with me the big games of life;
Dream and Desire,
Honest Sighs and Happiness,
Past of Good and Bad,
Future as if There’s No Tomorrow,
Future Where’s Tomorrow,
Playful Good Mornings,
Nights Beyond Expectations
they are all so dear to me.

Play To Be My Partner,
Play I Do Care About You,
Play all the games of True Romance;
then, if I walk near at the end of my journey,
playing Old Age or Game Over,
I can tell you
I loved playing with you.

Because thrown away
in the box of broken
is an awful feeling
with no playing
at all.

But you found me,
holding me as a whole,
and I could be your tool for joy.

I felt still worthy for a short.

Benyamin Bensalah



Where it will be gone
my pain
when it leaves Earth’s surface
leaves my body
leaves me?

Will it feel alone
without me
like I myself did
all the time

Will it miss me
like I did miss care
in my life?

Will it miss itself
without me
like I did miss myself
all alone
on my own?

Wherever it will be
I’d like it to know
that it’s alright
and we did have
quite a road.

Benyamin Bensalah